Bulma and the Prince
by DragonRaye
Summary: Bulma and her 'son' Gohan are taken from Earth. Of course they want to go home, but our favorite prince won't let them go without him being in on it.
1. Part 1:Conquered

Part 1: 

The bloodshot eyes of every terrified person who stumbled down the underground corridor was wide in horror. Echoes of dragging footsteps sounded down the stone hallway. Pale faces lined every wall, most keeping an eye on what little possessions they had left. Even the children seemed to realize the severity of the situation and clung either to teddy bears or their parents. Every square inch of floor space was covered by the now homeless of South City, plus any other town recently ransacked by the Saiyans.

Despite the constant murmur of the crowd, there wasn't one person who missed the annoying squeak of the door as it inched open. A collective breath was held as a booted foot landed just inside the room. If it was one of the ruthless Saiyans…

There was a soft grunt, then the door was flung aside, a scraggly-looking woman, exhausted and barely standing, appeared in the doorway. The arrival of this one person -- the scientist responsible for their current safety -- had been eagerly anticipated, and she seemed to know it.

 She smiled wryly and looked up, blue eyes dancing. "Is everyone here?"

Without waiting for an answer, she reached behind her, fingers closing around the small hand of a little boy and pulling him into the room next to her. Black eyes downcast and dark hair blood-matted, he clutched the woman's pant leg, glancing out at the masses in utter terror. The woman knelt by his side, smoothing back his wild black hair and pulling him closer, stiffly shaking her head.

He didn't know that she was the only person capable of saving the entire countryside through her father's system of channels under every town. Nor did the poor kid know what she'd been through, that her already frayed nerves were at the breaking point because of the recent deaths in Gingertown, including his father's arch rival, Piccolo. All he knew was that this lady saved him, and was protecting him, even from this many people.

One man, dressed in black rags stepped forward, clearing his throat. She looked wearily over her young charge's head. "Miss Briefs?" he questioned softly. "I have something to tell you."

"Please. Call me Bulma," she answered, business-like tone taking charge. When she saw the look in the man's eyes, her heart dropped to the bottom of her torn combat boots. "Who now?" she whispered. There was a quick cough, and the guy started to rock back and forth, dark blue eyes glued to the ground. Her heart continued to sink, and she swallowed thickly noticing how the mass of people was getting restless. "Well?" she demanded harshly.

"In the last battle…" he began, jamming his hands in his pockets and refusing to look at her. Shaking his head, the man took a deep breath. "Yamcha." He inwardly winced when Bulma took in a hissing breath, knowing her attachment to the fighter.

The little boy whimpered as Bulma's hand tightened on his convulsively, trying to pull away. She didn't seem to notice, and used the back of her blood-splattered sleeve to wipe the gathering tears from her eyes as she stood. Nodding sharply, Bulma stood and glared out at the crowd, pulling the 4-year-old up next to her.

Bulma opened her mouth, but the mumbling crowd's horrified attention was on the kid's waving tail. "You brought a SAIYAN here?!" one particularly brave man demanded, standing to get a better look at the shaking boy.

Blue eyes fierce, the genius went to respond when a woman interrupted. "This is the only safe place we have, and you're bringing a killer here!" More jeers and swears came from the masses, making the already terrified boy clutch Bulma's hand even tighter.

Once his grip was at the point that nearly broke her hand, she picked him up to lock eyes with him. Gohan trembled and hugged her, tail winding around her wrist. Bulma glared at the screaming audience, who still hadn't noticed how close to a nervous breakdown the poor boy was.

"What about Son Goku?" she shouted, getting most of the talkers silent in a second. "HE was a Saiyan too. And he fought FOR Earth." When the shouting returned, she scowled and shook her head. "They'll never learn." With that, she grabbed the filthy sleeve of the man nearest to her and yanked him closer. "I'm going south to the site of the last raid. If they ever shut up long enough, dim the lights and tell them to get some sleep. We're on the move tomorrow."

Gohan looked up at his savior, wide-eyed as she marched over to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, the young half-breed trotted behind her, still shaking. "I wanna come too."

Not having the heart -- or the needed courage -- to turn down the kid, Bulma grinned. "Sure. Just stay close."

Again all was silent as the door squealed opened, half the people wincing at the high-pitched sound. The click echoed in the half-darkness as Bulma quietly shut the door behind them.

** ============================================**

Two sets of exhausted eyes scanned the totally destroyed area that used to be the bustling city of Gingertown. Bulma sighed heavily and leaned against a miraculously standing wall, running a bloodied hand through her fine blue hair. "This is ridiculous. They ALWAYS leave at least THREE survivors."

Gohan shivered, getting a bad feeling from the ghost town. "I wanna go." Bulma held out her arm and he wrapped his around her waist, crying into her ragged shirt. "I want Mommy. And Daddy."

Blue eyes closed as the brutal death of his mother crossed her mind once again. She'd seen her friend beat to death a thousand times in memory; no less than the killing of her own parents the Saiyans had forced her to witness. She was only glad that Gohan hadn't been there when Chi Chi died. It was too much for a little kid to handle. Especially when the Saiyan responsible looked like his dad's twin. The little boy would be scarred for life after that. As if he wouldn't be already.

/And all because she was Goku's wife,/ she thought with a growl. Gohan looked up at her, then turned, sensitive ears picking up more than her vocalized anger. /And me because I was his friend. Damn them. What do they want anyway?/

"Go AWAY!" Gohan's shouts suddenly broke through her thoughts, and it didn't sound like the first time he'd said it. She raised an eyebrow as his small power steadily rose until she thought it could pass Goku's. "Leave us ALONE!"

Bulma brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and turned to see a man much taller than she and built like a linebacker lean against the cracked half-wall next to him, shaking his bald head. The man was covered in blood from head to toe and didn't look like he should be sitting under his own power let alone walking around. She assumed that he competed in the tournaments because of his relatively high ki, but it was nowhere near her late best friend's.

"It's okay, Gohan," she said, smiling at the guy as she put a hand on the little boy's head. /Even with power like that he needs medical attention. And of course the first place they go after is Kami's Lookout and Korin's Tower. Bastards./

As she started toward him, a shockingly strong hand latched onto her wrist and pulled her back. "No. He's a bad man." Gohan scowled at the smirking bodybuilder.

"He only LOOKS like a bad man," Bulma explained. "See? He's hurt. We have to help him." Something about the battle must have worn off on the man because Gohan was just like his father: one could trust his instincts about bad vibes right away. Unfortunately, hers were telling her to get this guy help now and ask questions later. And hers were louder than his.

The bald man's black eyes were haunting and empty, eyes she'd only seen on the face of her best friend's killer. He kept his muscular arms folded across his waist while he leaned on the stone ledge that used to the windowsill of a doctor's office. He smirked at Gohan, then the expression dropped, along with his jaw, when the little boy's tail popped out from under his shirt. A look that was starting to get more and more common.

"He's… a SAIYAN," the guy said in what sounded like amazement. "I thought…" His fingers twitched toward his back before he seemed to realize what he was doing. Then he looked down at his hand and smirked. Gohan whimpered but stepped in front of Bulma once again.

Bulma mistook his smirk for an expression of concern and smiled consolingly. "Don't worry. He's only half. And he won't hurt you." She didn't give the man time to reply as she looked him over. "How many others are still alive?"

Dark eyes half-closed before he grinned. "One. Me and my buddy." The scientist didn't notice the amusement lurking in the cold expression.

Bulma's eyes clouded with tears and she didn't know whether they were because she was so upset or so pissed off. "We've GOT to stop them. When we get back I'm pushing the tests up another month. This CAN'T keep happening!" She looked down at Gohan and tried to gel back his hair with her hand. "It CAN'T."

Baldy raised an eyebrow and Gohan jumped at the movement. It seemed expressions were merely tools at his disposal. The little Saiyan ran behind Bulma, shaking. "Bad man," he whispered, grabbing for the scientist's pant leg again. "Very bad man."

"What tests?" he inquired casually, slinging a leg over the reddened edge of the wall.

Bulma watched his movements and noticed he didn't seem affected by the fact that he was covered in blood and SHOULD be losing more. The fact that he wasn't concerned her, and even more so the calm air he had about the city being leveled, probably before his very eyes. Finally it hit her that Gohan was right and the first thing she should do was get the hell away.

She kept all this to herself and backed up a few paces. "We've been trying to find a way to stop the Saiyans. A new weapon, using a simulation of something called ki is being developed. If we can make it strong enough, we might have a chance." Every cell was screaming "IDIOT" for giving this guy the information, but there was nothing she could do now. Bulma cast a worried look back at Gohan and continued to walk away from Baldy.

"I doubt it," he replied coldly, smirking at her. Bulma's eyes widened as he unraveled his tail from around his waist and waved it at his side. "But thanks for the information, woman. It will be very useful to me."

Baldy's hand went to his back and dug out something Bulma recognized as a power detector. She'd fixed the one that belonged to the Saiyan that killed the Son family. She glanced at Gohan, knowing how his power fluctuated. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and ran.

She knew the Saiyans were fast, faster than Goku, but she didn't expect him to appear right in front of her, one finger on the button attached to the eyepiece, the other curling into a fist. Bulma threw Gohan away as the beefy hand connected, and she saw stars.

She didn't feel the impact when she hit the ground, or the pain at first for that matter. All she could do was lay there, helpless. Gohan cried nearby, ki shooting up at a rapid pace. Bulma heard the strange language end and the beep go off seconds before the reading showed up. And before the man reached for the kid.

The blood pooling in her mouth spilled out onto the ground without her really noticing as she tried to push herself to her knees. /I promised Goku, and I promised Chi Chi before she died that I would protect him. I WILL get Gohan back!/ That thought in mind, she grunted and forced her body to go against the pain. Blue eyes fell on the pair and she growled, finally staggering to her feet only to fall back again.

The Saiyan chuckled and lifted Gohan up by his throat. "Impressive, for a rodent. This must be Kakorrot's little brat, the one that weakened Radditz so much." Gohan continued to struggle and Bulma sat up, jaw still numb. She somehow knew that he had been holding back more than he thought he did, otherwise her head would still be rolling.

Bulma did the first thing she could think of. She reached out, grabbed Gohan by the tail and pulled gently on it, as not to hurt the boy and get his attention. "It's all right, son."

Black eyes widened and the warrior looked from Gohan to Bulma in disbelief. "This runt isn't yours," he growled, shaking her hand off of him.

Bulma swallowed thickly and stood up, head starting to throb. "Yes he is. Mine and Goku's."

The Saiyan looked astounded, then smirked. "I see. One woman who can up the power of a third-class warrior's son up to an Elite is worthy of the king's attention." He looked down to Gohan, who yawned in exhaustion from powering up.

/Kami, I swear to you one day I WILL learn to keep my mouth shut./ Bulma glared at him, putting her hands on her hips. The pain was settling in, but that wouldn't stop her. "Then he'll have to make an appointment with my secretary," she growled. "I'm a busy woman."

"Then let me extend the king's… invitation," Baldy said with a warning smirk, raising his hand. Gohan's sleepy eyes opened long enough to see this and his energy shot through the roof, making the numbers in the eyepiece rise before it exploded off his ear. /This CAN'T be good. Now he's PISSED too./ Bulma swallowed thickly, knowing Gohan wouldn't be much more help after he showed his power.

Instead of killing the kid, the Saiyan put him under his arm and reached for Bulma. "VERY interested, indeed." Baldy smirked as his fingers brushed her sleeve.

The scientist batted his hand away. "I'm not going anywhere. My son and I are going HOME." She didn't even see the blow coming until she ended up some meters away, spitting out more teeth and blood, but it seemed the new gaps in her mouth weren't done bleeding.

"I'm not ordered to bring you unharmed, woman. It would be in your best interest to obey me."

Never losing eye contact with him, Bulma got to her feet and glared at him proudly. She spit out the blood pooling inside her mouth on the tip of his white boot, then crossed her arms and allowed him to pick her up one-handed. Bulma said nothing while he flew, only kept an eye on Gohan's snoring form. She then noticed than when he'd picked her up, his hand had hit the emergency button on her watch. The other would be okay.

/As long as I distract these morons things might be all right after all./

** ============================================**

Despite her fears, concerns, and the fact that he could probably tear her head off merely by thinking about it, Bulma whirled around to face him. Used to constantly looking down at Gohan -- who she noticed was missing from the warrior's arms -- her neck protested looking up so high. His request -- no, order -- was utterly ridiculous, and she planned on letting him know and worry about the consequences to her life later. He only glanced down at her like she was heading his "kill-when-convenient" list, which was perfectly fine with her.

"I am NOT going in there like THIS!" Bulma gestured to her blood-stained ragged clothes, the red path trailing from her chin to her waist, and her general disarray. The Saiyan was unimpressed. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I set foot inside that room," she clarified, crossing her arms and daring him to say anything.

"You don't know when to shut your mouth, do you woman?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"Not really," she admitted, crossing her arms. "And my name is BULMA. I would appreciate you using it."

The Saiyan snorted, but his next comment was cut off as another voice rang out and a bulky arm settled on his broad shoulder. "Nappa!" Bulma saw the fighter turn to give what looked like the royal guard a death glare. /So, the bastard has a name./

The scientist blew her bangs out of her face in irritation as they continued to talk. It annoyed the hell out of her that she couldn't understand a word they were saying other than her captor's name. What REALLY pissed her off was the tone of voice the newcomer used. She didn't like it. Or the looks he was constantly giving her. OR the fact that he made 6-foot, neck-like-a-fire-hydrant, arms-like-a-machine-gun Nappa look like some goody-two-shoes Boy Scout. She gulped every time the Saiyan caught her eye, then looked at the shorter warrior and saw that he was doing nothing to discourage the man.

Finally the guy said something to tick off the already irritated Saiyan, and the next thing the guard saw was Nappa's ham-sized fist, then a totally white wall streaked with his own blood. Bulma's eyes widened at the sound of the impact and watched as Nappa stalked over to the warrior, giving him hell about whatever he'd just said. The guard shivered and nodded furiously, sending cracked plaster tumbling onto his injured head. Nappa bent down low to threaten the guy, speaking as though Bulma might not only hear, but understand. The man glanced back at her, black eyes wide with fear. He then dragged his gaze back to Nappa and nodded once, slowly.

Satisfied, Nappa let him up and turned back to Bulma. "Now woman," he began, then paused when he heard the guard running down the hall: it was the only sound she could pick up. "The king awaits."

Bulma crossed her arms with a dark scowl. "Didn't we just HAVE this conversation? It ended in 'NO.' Remember now?"

Inwardly, Nappa was impressed. He'd shown her a good part of his strength, even slapped her hard enough to knock most humans out for weeks, and she STILL didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. He smirked and leaned toward her and watched her flinch just the tiniest bit. After that display, he didn't really blame her. Blue eyes locked onto his black ones, a bit warily, but still defiant.

/Yes, the king will certainly have a hard time breaking this one./ "Listen, woman, and listen well," he growled in the same voice that he'd used with the guard. "The king is expecting his new slave, and whether you walk in on your own two feet or you crawl is entirely YOUR decision." Bulma bristled at being called a slave and she glared at him. Nappa straightened to his full height and smirked at her. "Again, woman. Will you walk?"

"I'll do whatever I damn please," Bulma replied stubbornly, leaning back against the door.

Nappa smirked and leaned in even closer, noses almost touching. Bulma blinked a few times, then blew in his eyes. The Saiyan's smirk only widened with a predatory look, and the blue-haired woman shivered.

"Let me tell you a few things woman. If you want to come out of there in one piece, I suggest that you learn how to keep you mouth shut for longer than 5 seconds. The king's temper is much, MUCH shorter than mine, and much more violent." He raised an eyebrow, asking her if she understood. Then he leaned back and waited.

"Thanks for the tips, but since I'm not going in there, I won't have to worry about it," she stated simply, sneering at him.

Nappa leaned on the wall next to her, then smiled and reached behind her. Bulma froze as she felt his hand brushing her lower back, then sent him a half-confused, half-relieved glare that he didn't do anything more than make a fist. Nappa's smile morphed into a grin as he stood away from the wall and ceremoniously threw open the door. Not expecting the move, Bulma tumbled back and laid sprawled on the floor. 

"Bastard," she hissed, getting to her feet under the stares of many Saiyan eyes.

She brushed off imaginary dust and gave a full round of glares. Obviously these people weren't used to alien women falling into their banquet hall/throne room. Managing to keep certain parts covered enough to disappoint most of the men, she smirked as she realized what a scene she made. Giving sneers and smirks to all, she turned her attention toward the front of the room.

With as much pride as she could muster, Bulma glared down the carpeted path to the other side of the room where a Saiyan sat. She estimated that the throne was at least three times his 5-foot, 10-inch frame, plus the hair that shot straight up, adding almost another foot to his height. Gloved fingers rapped impatiently on the armrest, black eyes zeroed in on her.

Bulma noticed the moment the blank, bored look in his eyes turned to lust, and she groaned. Lifting her chin, she continued her march through the room, stopping a few yards from the seated king. "You called?" she asked sarcastically, crossing her arms. Someone knelt behind her, and from the slight hiss of warning, she surmised it was Nappa.

One black eyebrow shot into his receding hairline and he looked at her, then looked her over, stopping in most of the places other men did. It didn't help that most of the places weren't covered either. Bulma only scowled and endured.

/O, yeah. This keeps getting better and better. I KNOW I'm beautiful, but why do all the CREEPS have to notice?/ She growled when he licked his lips and glared past her at what she assumed was another Saiyan.

When the king nodded in approval, Bulma felt a chill travel up her spine. She felt a pair of greedy eyes on her back and knew who it was right away; she could tell when a normal person was looking at her and when Chi Chi's killer was looking at her. She slowly turned and came face-to-face -- or more like narrow-to-face since he was taller -- with the Saiyan that was Goku gone bad.

He smirked at her before kneeling next to Nappa, focusing on the tear going from thigh to knee and revealing more than she wanted. Bulma hissed and glared at him, not trusting herself to move for fear Nappa would restrain her. She turned an interesting shade of red, but whether it was from anger or embarrassment she wasn't quite sure.

"Turles, I'm glad you made it back," Nappa said with a smile at his partner. The new slave stiffened, entire body tight as she realized Nappa had been working with the murderer.

Bulma was about to open her mouth when the king's arm lashed out. She couldn't see the beam, but she felt the man's ki skyrocket. By the time she'd completely turned around, a shorter duplicate of the king had rolled out from the shadowed corner, right arm singed and hair smoking.

"Prince Vegeta," the warriors at her back said in unison, both nodding respectfully. He only scowled and fixed his dark eyes on his father in a death glare. He then seemed to notice Bulma and one eyebrow raised in surprise, then lowered as his eyes narrowed.

Then the prince smirked, crossing his arms. "Why, if it isn't the trouble-making wench." How he knew who she was was beyond her, but at the moment she didn't quite care.

Nappa could see Bulma gearing up for another yelling fest and sighed. Turles only smirked at the prince knowingly, a very Saiyan look. Vegeta's eyes instantly searched the woman's body, scanning for any marks that proved she was his. Nappa elbowed his partner and glared at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You're gonna get yourself KILLED!" Nappa hissed, arm meeting the other man's armored ribs a second time. Turles only smiled at him and bowed his head again.

The scientist ignored the warriors and turned her attention to the royal men. "My NAME is BULMA!" she screamed, making the king's hand go up to his now injured ear. "I am not 'WOMAN,' I am not 'WENCH.' I am BULMA, and I expect to be called by it!" That said, she glared at the king, only to find that his smirk had broadened.

"Vegeta, escort this woman to my quarters." Bulma's eyes widened in outrage, as did Vegeta's. Her mouth opened scant seconds after Vegeta's did.

"My training is about to start," he said in a stiff monotone, glaring at Bulma as if it were her fault.

"Don't look at ME, you flea-bitten monkey," she hissed, crossing her arms. "It's not like I WANTED to be here. Baldy 'invited' me." She then turned her heated gaze on the king. "Call me old-fashioned, but next time just send a CARD."

He blatantly ignored her and looked at his son. "No amount of training will make YOU any stronger, brat. Take her, NOW."

The prince's rage grew, and so did his ki. Bulma realized that he was unconsciously holding back, something rare for Saiyans. Then he smirked and glanced at her, and Bulma went stiff. He wasn't going to… She shrugged it off and scowled at them both.

Vegeta shrugged and grabbed Bulma, hoisting her over his shoulder, hand sliding up a little too far for her comfort. "Don't even THINK about it, asshole," Bulma hissed, tempted to pound his back. Instead she grabbed his tail and squeezed. Nothing. She groaned and locked her hands on his wrist in an iron grip.

Vegeta only let his fingers wander higher as he carried her out. Bulma gulped when she saw the king's face and realized EXACTLY what kind of slave she was going to be. If the prince didn't get to her first.

** ============================================ **

Even in the hallway, Vegeta continued to slide his hand up her leg at an excruciatingly slow pace as he glanced at her face with a smirk. It was contorted with fury, and her grip tightened on his wrist even more for every inch he advanced. There was also fear, and that was nothing the prince enjoyed more.

Bulma closed her eyes and scowled, then did the only thing she could think of: she clamped her jaws down on the side of the prince's neck. After a few seconds of pressure, the skin broke and Vegeta halted in his tracks. Almost as if he were automated, he dropped her behind him and reached up to the wound in wonder.

She took the half-second advantage she had and shoved herself to her feet, running down the corridors in the opposite direction he'd been taking her. /All right, let's NOT try that again,/ Bulma growled mentally, wanting to nurse her sore mouth. /I think I broke something important. Like my entire bottom jaw./

In the back of her mind, she wondered what was taking Vegeta so long, as there was no way she could ever outrun a Saiyan, then what looked like a lab caught her frantic eye. Despite her desperate pleas for her legs to keep going, she slowed down to a full stop in front of the door.

Shrugging, Bulma rolled her eyes. "Kami I hate fate. It's a pain in my ass," she muttered as she went to work reprogramming the door so that it wouldn't let anyone else in after her. With a flourish she stepped back and grinned as it hissed open, hands on her hips. "So primitive. It KILLS me!"

Stepping inside, she drew a quick breath at all the equipment. Most of which she'd never seen before, and her grin widened into something that resembled a 5-year-old on his first trip to a toy store.

That was, in fact, what she was thinking. /All right. New toys! I take it back. They're about as up-to-date as my lab./ With a slight whistle she ran her hand along the edge of a machine whose purpose was as of yet undetermined. Bulma shook her head in wonder, wanting to stop and examine each and every thing that made noise, but that would involve more time than she had left in her life.

Outside she heard the beep that meant someone was trying to get in. Shrugging carelessly, she went back to her scrutiny of this latest model, then straightened when there was an explosion. With a groan, she turned to face Vegeta, who smirked at her, controls to the door in hand. Or, what USED to be the controls to the door.

"Impressive, woman. Especially for a weak, inferior race such as your own." With that, he tossed down the shattered box and focused his hungry black eyes on her. "Now, come, before I get angry."

"I am so afraid," she replied in a dull monotone. Then she sneered and her tone turned sarcastic. "I'm shaking in my boots about a guy who has a power level of roughly a thousand. O, help." She saw that she'd hit a chord there and smirked. "So, Daddy wasn't kidding when he said the baby really WAS a baby."

"Silence, woman!" Vegeta snapped, closing the last few feet between them in two strides. "If you were actually WORTH the time to kill, I would do it."

Bulma blatantly ignored his comment and grinned at him. "Where's my son?"

The prince looked startled, then leaned in, hand coming up around her throat. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to squeeze. When he only shoved her against the wall, she was shocked and opened one eye. He was smirking at her again, and Bulma silently vowed to come up with a way to wipe it off permanently. /If I live that long./

"Woman, don't test my patience any more than you already have," Vegeta warned. "You've never been pregnant, so how can you have a son?"

"Adoption?" she suggested, then glared at him. "And how would YOU know?" she hissed.

"It's not difficult," he responded with a sneer. "Virgins are always more balanced than others. Besides, they walk like they've been riding one of those small Earth beasts for too long. And they smell differently."

"So because I'm more graceful than you and I supposedly walk bow-legged you assume I don't have a son. And I'm not even going to go into you smelling me," Bulma summarized. Vegeta shrugged and she growled. "What if I tell you you're wrong?"

"It doesn't matter to the king, woman." Vegeta reached for her again and this time she let him pick her up with no verbal comment. The red mark on his neck stood out vividly against his pale skin and she smirked.

/If I LIKED this asshole I could help him not be such a damn wimp. Then again, he IS an asshole./ Bulma scowled and crossed her arms, not even bothering to try to stop the prince when his hand again slipped through the hole in her pants. Focusing her eyes on a faraway spot, she growled and gritted her teeth.

Bulma's eyes lit up as she noticed the lock to the king's chambers was like the one to the lab. /I'll be out of here before the sun sets,/ she thought gleefully. /All I have to do is find Gohan./

She was thrown none too gently on the bed as Vegeta stalked over to reprogram the locks. /Well, he's not as stupid as he looks,/ she admitted. /Because he DOES look pretty damn stupid./

Vegeta scowled at her as she idly ran her hands over the quilt and rolled her eyes. "You will wait here until the king comes to get you," he commanded, crossing his arms. "If you survive, then you'll also stay here until dismissed by him."

"Whatever," Bulma said, waving her hand at him. The prince tensed and he glared at her. She felt his power rise another 300, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. He was holding back more than 5,000.

Vegeta snorted, seeing that she looked thoughtful. Already he was realizing all hell was about to break loose when she got that look. "Then you understand, woman? I will not repeat myself."

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, locking eyes with him as her hand came across something connected to the wall. Something that felt very much like important wires. "Go and get the hell away from me before I insult your royal ass again."

"This room is monitored, woman," he clarified as he stepped toward the door. "Don't try to escape. You won't like the consequences." She stuck her tongue out at him and smirked as he shook his head and closed the door. Her hand tightened on the wire and she grinned. /All right. Saiyans are SO stupid. Who else would lock me in a room that's electronically EVERYTHING?/ With that, she yanked the wire out and watched with satisfaction as the lock's light blinked, then faded. She then went to work setting up a hologram of herself in the room to play for the cameras, locating Gohan and all the other fun stuff normal 6-year-olds did with their fathers.

** ============================================**

The cries were finally starting to wear on his short-tempered nerves. Never really liking children anyway, this was just another reason the blast the pest into atom-sized chunks. But he'd promised the king he'd watch the brat because of his high power level, and here he was. Totally pissed-off and ready to kill something. Or someONE, preferably.

"I thought you would be having fun, Nappa," a voice chided from behind him and the older Saiyan growled.

"Shut up, Turles. It ain't exactly entertaining listening to that kid wail. Powerful lungs, that's all I gotta say."

Turles smirked at him, leaning against the wall and cocking his head. "I heard he blew up your scouter. Pretty powerful period." He glanced at the door thoughtfully. "I shouldn't be surprised. He IS my nephew."

Nappa snorted. "Get over yourself. Now. Besides, the three of you nitwits only shared a father. He's your HALF nephew."

Goku's look-alike shrugged carelessly. "Close enough. Had Kakorrot gotten the right training I'm sure he would've been more than enough of a challenge for Radditz. You too, for that matter."

Nappa raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I think that you should get checked out by Recovery," Nappa muttered, then stood. "I can't take any more of that brat! I'm gonna kill the little bastard!"

Turles barely got in the way and braced himself against the wall while holding his partner back. "Calm down, will you? I'll take care of it." Seeing that the bald Saiyan wasn't going to go on another rampage in the immediate future, he nodded. "Sit and relax. Gods know, you need it."

The warrior scowled and slumped in his seat, glaring at the darkness beyond the door as Turles stepped inside. Gohan stopped crying and grinned at the man, slowly getting to his feet. "Daddy!"

/Yeah, this is Kakorrot's brat for sure. He even LOOKS like him./ Turles shook his head and knelt, picking up Gohan by the tail and looking at his tear-streaked face. "No. I'm not your dad, kid. I'm your new trainer. From now on, we'll be spending a LOT of time together." He smirked at the boy and nodded to himself. /And then we'll see just how powerful this kid is./

** ============================================**

Bulma scowled as she pressed herself against the wall, Gohan's hand squeezed tightly in hers. The boy didn't complain, or even whimper as he usually did. It had been a trip and a half trying to get her "son" away from the Saiyans, especially without attempting to kill one of them. But all that mattered was that they were almost free. From the map readings, the space pods were just down the hall, the last door on the right. The only problem was that the dock was a popular place, and with her coloring it was hard to get past the Saiyans without them noticing. It wasn't everyday a woman with bright blue hair walked in and asked to borrow a ship.

She sighed and shook her head, free hand coming down to rustle Gohan's hair. "Wanna go home," he whispered, burying his face in her ragged jeans.

"We're almost there," Bulma promised sternly, giving his hand a gentle tug. "Come on. But we have to run. Can you keep up?" Gohan paused before nodding vigorously. "Then come on."

Still clutching his hand like a lifeline, Bulma took a deep breath and sprang into the hall, dashing past the oncoming Saiyans. They had barely enough time to register what they saw before she sprinted around a corner. Blue eyes widened and a grin started to form as she saw an empty ship, completely open, not 10 feet from where they were. Gohan smiled as Bulma chuckled, then started to yell as a dark shadow swooped them up.

"NO!" Bulma screamed as she saw the ship growing distant. The wind picked up in dangerous leaps and bounds and she closed her eyes.

Strong arms tightened around her and she wheezed for a moment before they loosened just enough for her to breathe. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Vegeta's stern face glaring at her as he finally pulled to a halt some 500 feet above the docking bay.

"You BASTARD!" Bulma growled, twisting in his arms. "You couldn't wait 10 SECONDS, could you? 3 feet, that was it! 3 FEET!" She nearly broke down crying when she realized how close liberation had been.

Gohan reached over to her and Vegeta's hand slapped his away. Bulma quickly swatted at the prince's scouter before Gohan's power rose, knowing it would only get them both in farther over their heads. As it was she was going to be dead by dawn. And she didn't know WHAT would happen to Gohan.

"Brat," Vegeta hissed, extending the arm holding Goku's son away from his body. "Don't try me."

"Vegeta, don't. He's only a little boy," Bulma pleaded, watching the fury in Gohan's eyes skip to fear.

"I am PRINCE Vegeta," he growled, drawing the shaking child back again. "Remember that, wench."

Bulma chose to remain silent, then glared up at him. "And that, PRINCE, is my son." She looked significantly at Gohan, hoping he wouldn't say anything that proved otherwise.

Vegeta snorted. "He looks nothing like you."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "There's something called GENETICS that says black hair shows up more than my color does. He's Goku's son."

"Kakorrot?" Vegeta's eyes lit up and he smiled -- actually SMILED -- at the horrified hybrid. "Then I guess the brat has some use after all. I've heard of his power. I hope you aren't lying to me, wench. For HIS sake." That he said for any who might be listening below. Bulma winced as he brought his mouth next to her ear and whispered, "It would be entertaining for the king to know the truth, woman."

His threat being made, Vegeta landed, setting her free for the moment. Bulma sighed and sat down while the prince ordered around his underlings. The day was already going downhill, and a little voice in the back of her mind went: /And it's only Monday./

** ============================================**

Bulma grunted and tried to reach her arm above her head. Not possible with a dislocated shoulder that was broken only halfway. That and the muscle than ran the span of her back was bruised, as were the ribs under it. The three on her front left side were DEFINITELY broken in more than one place, and several other injuries made her immobile. All in all, it was a BAD day.

/Once I figure out how to move without feeling like whatever is gonna fall off, I WILL find a way to kill that bastard. All 3 of them!/ Bulma knew it was Turles who had given her her punishment, and Vegeta who had watched stoically, but she knew that he'd enjoyed every bit of it. /The sadistic little bastard. Memo to me: don't EVER get whipped in front of him again. That, and track down the king to kill him too. It's his damn fault./

Bulma finally got her aches and pain down to a dull roar as she pulled herself to her feet and somehow made it to the bathroom. She immediately turned on the tap to hot bath water, only wanting to soak. Looking back to see how many blankets she'd scattered, Bulma wasn't surprised to find a bloody trail marking her path. Shaking her head, she slowly stripped the bloodied cloth away from her injuries, wincing as she did so. She slowly added sweet-smelling bubble bath with a small smile.

The clothes were little more than rags and Bulma sighed, tossing them in a forgotten corner as she stepped into the tub. While the heat had felt good to her uninjured hand, her lacerated flesh didn't agree. Without thinking, she let out a scream, then lost her precious balance and toppled into the steaming water. No wonder her shrieks brought three guards running. Plus, the prince, since he was on his way to see her anyway.

The four men burst into the room, black eyes darting everywhere until they rested on the slightly ajar door that led to the bathroom. The guards stayed put while Vegeta marched over and shoved it open, rage showing openly on his face.

"Wench, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded hotly, crossing her arms. Bulma, being quite naked and using only the bubbles as a shield, decided this was one of those times she should stay silent. "You are wasting the time of my guards with your hysterical antics. I would like an explanation."

Seeing that his royal pain-in-the-ass wasn't about to budge until she complied, the scientist scowled and raised one arm slightly out of the pink-tinted water to show the abrasions. "It hurt," she answered in a civil tone. At his disgusted look, she scowled. "I'm only human."

Vegeta snorted and tuned his back. Bulma took the opportunity to reach for a towel and wrap it around herself, despite the fact that that was the only thing she had to dry herself with. "Yes, such a weak species. Even IF Kakorrot lost his memory, he should've destroyed the damn planet anyway. It's pathetic."

Bulma sighed, drawing the prince's attention. "Can you at least give me something else to wear?" she asked pleasantly, though it was through gritted teeth. /I swear, if I was dressed…/

"Do I look like a slave to you?" Vegeta inquired haughtily. "*I* should be asking YOU these things."

"You would ask ME to get YOU clothes while your royal smallness is in the tub?" Bulma inquired with a smirk. The Saiyan's eyes narrowed and she smirked. "Anyway, go tell Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest to get me some clothes. I'm not going ANYWHERE in a TOWEL!"

He looked interested and Bulma instantly kicked herself underwater. "Concerning the reason I'm here, wench," Vegeta continued, eyeing her carefully. "The king wishes to tell you that starting tomorrow you will work in the labs to create anything and everything he tells you to."

"I'll think about it," Bulma growled, crossing her arms over her half-bared chest. "Now, about my clothes…"

"What's wrong with the ones you have?" Vegeta asked, cocking his head with a smirk. Bulma growled and glared at him, finding the edge of the tub and leaning against it irritably. Looking at him, she decided he was definitely trying to provoke her and scowled.

"Well, considering the fact that MOST of them are still stuck to my back, I think it could be a problem. Or, if you just go AWAY, I'll get more for myself."

He looked amused and nodded. "Fine, wench. The men are outside so you can place your request." He cracked the door even wider, and Bulma instantly blushed.

Determined not to let him know how much he got under her skin, she sucked in a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could, "Hey assholes! Get me something to wear. NOW!" Startled, they looked at Vegeta for a split second before disappearing. Bulma looked at the astonished prince and smirked. "Now shut the door. It's getting cold in here."

Not willing to lose face again, Vegeta growled and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Once she heard the beep that signaled his leaving, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and sunk lower in the hot water. /Kami, what have I done?/


	2. Part 2: Deals

Part 2 

The warrior's scowl deepened, making his face almost unrecognizable as he advanced on the wailing child. Gritting his teeth in an effort not to blast the kid 4 lightyears away, Turles growled and yanked Gohan up by the nape of his neck, dark eyes beating into the little boy's. He only cried louder, nursing his swollen jaw and several other bruised places.  
  
Turles snorted in disgust and dropped his young nephew, glaring at him. "Any other Saiyan of your age would've gone through this at least two years ago," he growled, tail snapping back and forth in clear annoyance. "And YOU can't even make a simple ki ball! You're practically USELESS you crybaby!"  
  
Gohan looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I want my daddy," he declared with a hiccup. "And my mommy."  
  
"Your dad is DEAD, kid," Turles hissed, booted foot inches from contact with Gohan's chest. "As for your mom, she won't be walking for quite some time. Which means it's just you and me."  
  
The half-breed hiccuped again and whimpered as he pushed himself to his feet. "You're mean." Turles raised an eyebrow at the seriousness of the boy's tone. His tiny fists were clenched and face full of hatred. The scene was almost laughable. /After all the people I've killed and all the other shit I've been called, "mean" just scares me to death./  
  
"That ain't the half of it, kid,' Turles said with a smirk, crossing his arms and letting his foot lash out. Gohan didn't see the blow coming and was sent flying across the room. Again the hybrid's cries reached the older Saiyan's ears and he chuckled. "I'm downright ruthless."  
  
"Stop it you bully," Gohan whined, rubbing the blood from his cheek and dragging his filthy sleeve across his eyes. "Leave me alone!"  
  
/So now I'm not only mean, but I'm a bully too?/ Turles thought with a smirk. /But if he wants me to leave him alone…/ Slowly advancing on the little boy, he grinned and chuckled darkly. Gohan backed up a few steps at the aura his uncle had. Turles' black eyes were radioactive with his idea, and with his bloodstained clothes plus his satanic expression he looked about as trustworthy as Jack the Ripper on a PCP high. Yet he gestured to Gohan as if he were Santa Claus anxious to hear his Christmas list. Turles held out his hand with a smile, sending chills up the little boy's spine.  
  
"Come on, kid. I'll take you somewhere where I know NO one will bother you for a LONG time." Finally Gohan's hand slid into his, and Turles closed his strong fingers around the tiny digits with a grin. /And all I'm gonna ask is that you stay alive while you're there. It won't be hard. The Arlian jungles are wonderful this time of year./  
  
**============================================**  
  
She surprised herself by actually dragging herself to the door when a loud knock came, threatening to send the Saiyan concrete flying inward at her. With a hiss, Bulma reached for the knob with her good arm, yanking it open with much effort. Doing her best to scowl down whoever dared to wake her before noon, she found Nappa smirking at her.  
  
"What the hell are YOU doing here?" she demanded, hand automatically going to nurse her sore shoulder.  
  
"You're supposed to be in the labs in 10 minutes," he said briskly, noting her nightgown's sharp plunge and quickly averted his eyes. "And from what I can see--" He didn't get to continue as Bulma slammed the door in his face and stormed back to bed.  
  
Nappa growled and flung the door back open, scowling darkly. "Woman, WHAT is your problem?"  
  
Bulma glared at him from under the comforter. "Let's see. I was kidnapped, beaten, humiliated, then told to get to work when I can hardly MOVE. So I'm going back to bed. Screw Vegeta, and the king, and anyone else who tries to get me up before I'm ready." With that, she nodded and laid down, breathing heavily.  
  
Unaffected, Nappa tore the blankets off the bed, making Bulma sit up so sharply she nearly lost her balance. "NOW, woman. It's what slaves do, regardless of their condition."  
  
"Anything before noon should be considered unholy and therefore banned," she growled as she rolled off the edge and stood with her arms crossed. Nappa glared at her and she lifted her chin in a very princess-like fashion. "Do you mind?"  
  
"No," he replied, then realized she was about to get changed. /Not that I DO mind…/ He scowled and nodded, heading for the door. "Five minutes, woman. Then I'm coming to get you whether you're dressed or not!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Go check on that nosebleed!" Bulma shouted after him, then shook her head. /O, Kami, what have I gotten myself into?/  
  
Changing as quickly as possibly, she tried to find out what would move and what wouldn't. And wasn't surprised, though dismayed, to find out that most of her joints wouldn't but her mouth could. /Well, there's ONE plus side anyway./  
  
As promised, 5 minutes later, Nappa threw open the door impatiently. "WOMAN!"  
  
"Chill out," Bulma growled, trying to convince her hair to stay in the proffered hair tie. /Come on. This is so easy a SAIYAN can do it! Comb hair. Hold hair with right hand, pull tie with left. Scream in pain when dislocated shoulder helps out./ Finally frustrated beyond her control she threw the offending object across the room at Nappa, followed shortly by the hairbrush.  
  
He raised an eyebrow as she growled and marched past him. "I think you need to follow your own advice."  
  
Bulma whirled around and poked him in the chest. "I'm up and dressed, aren't I? And let me tell you, that's a feat in itself. If you think I'm going to be friendly and cheerful on top of that, you've got another thing coming, pal." She blew her bangs out of her reddened face and stalked down the hallway.  
  
Nappa gently grabbed her good arm and pulled her in the opposite direction. She wrenched her limb from his grasp and growled, walking just behind him. /Gods, she's beautiful when she's angry…/ He shook himself before that train of thought reached the next station. /O, no. Prince Vegeta would kill me if he found out I was after his latest slave. Not to mention the king./  
  
Bulma scowled when he stopped in front of a pair of double doors, then looked down on her as if she were an annoying insect. "Do you need help finding your way back?"  
  
"No, I'm standing here looking lost for my health."  
  
"I'll return for you at the end of the day," he replied, grinning. "And don't get yourself killed. The ship would be awfully dull."  
  
"What a pity," she growled as he walked off, muttering to two guards who had been slacking off. Turning her attention to the lab, she sighed. "Now, how am I supposed to get in without hotwiring the thing?" As she wandered closer to investigate, the doors hissed open. Grinning, Bulma jammed her hands in her pockets, then winced.  
  
"About time, wench." She was already beginning to hate that all-too-familiar voice. With a sickeningly sweet smile, Bulma turned to face Vegeta. "Get to work. Everyone else has already started."  
  
Bulma's eyes fell on a clock just above his head and she smirked. "My shift starts in another minute and a half," she replied. "Anyway, no one's told me what I'm supposed to be doing, let alone how to do it." Then she paused to consider something. "And what's the all-mighty royal ego doing down here among the likes of us?'"  
  
Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm overseeing the work done by the SLAVES, wench. Which means you listen to me."  
  
"I listen to the king," she shot back, seeing him stiffen. "And I STILL don't know what I'm doing."  
  
The prince smirked and nodded behind her. Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the machine she'd been admiring in the other lab, only this one was more high-tech. "Figure it out, wench."  
  
"That doesn't answer me."  
  
Vegeta only shrugged. "Maybe if you were here on time--"  
  
"I WAS!" she interrupted, growling. "Learn how to use a watch, you pampered palace brat."  
  
With that she turned back to the Saiyan equipment with a scowl. /Damn. All right, if this is the reset button, and this is the on/off switch, then this…/ After a few minutes of fiddling she stood back, triumphant. Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the smirking prince and grinned.  
  
"Hey, CACTUS HEAD!" she called, getting almost everyone in the room to halt whatever they were doing. She grinned even wider and leaned against the metallic box. "You're making me learn how to use an alien WASHING MACHINE? What the hell is this thing doing in a LAB?"  
  
Vegeta's eyes widened in shock and his lower jaw became just the slightest bit lax. Then he scowled and shrugged. "You will do as you are told, wench."  
  
Bulma smirked at him. "Right. If I can't pull my hair back what makes you think I can carry something?"  
  
"I told you to," he stated simply. "Now do it."  
  
"O, that's all fine and dandy, but here's a new break. I AM HU-MAN! Got that? HUMAN! I CAN'T carry big huge loads of wash because I'm not strong enough even when I'm NOT injured!" She mentally smiled. /THAT what capsules are for./  
  
Vegeta was unimpressed. "Get to work, wench. It's 5 minutes past the starting time."  
  
Bulma glared at him incredulously before gently slapping her own cheek and grunting. Deliberately walking over to the locks, she rewired the inside and marched out into the corridor. Looking both ways, she chose the right side and continued her early morning stroll.  
  
The prince grabbed her arm and spun her around roughly, bringing tears to the scientist's eyes. Bulma bit her lower lip as his grip tightened, determined not to show any more pain in front of him. Especially when she remembered the enjoyment he got out of watching her being beaten. /Sadistic bastard./  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, shoving her against the wall and sending more pain ricocheting through her body.  
  
"Um… this way?" Bulma guessed, watering blue eyes glued to his chin. Unlike when she was with Nappa, she didn't try to free herself or get TOO sarcastic.  
  
"Straight to the dungeons," Vegeta snapped, then smirked when he saw the alarm on her face. "Maybe I SHOULD send you down there. Maybe it will teach you some respect for a Saiyan prince."  
  
"Right. As you can see, YELLING doesn't do any good, and beating me only makes me more of a bitch than I already am," Bulma replied with a smirk. "I think you're running out of options."  
  
Vegeta leaned in closer, watching her flinch when his hand came up to rest just above her head. They were lightly pressed together from chest to knees, and Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to squirm. Vegeta's blazing eyes weren't in anger at her, but at himself for getting these feelings. Things he hadn't felt since puberty.  
  
/Why am I getting these annoying emotions NOW? And about this infernal woman? A slave. A HUMAN slave!/ He growled, making her wince again before opening one eye to warily regard him. Vegeta glared at her and snorted. "You'd be surprised, wench."  
  
Bulma pressed herself even further into the wall so she could look at him. "I'll make you a deal. You get me into someplace where I can actually USE my talents and I'll help you get your power above 5 thousand."  
  
Vegeta looked at her skeptically. "And how are you planning to accomplish this, wench?"  
  
She felt the "I don't know" forming and quickly clamped down on it. "It worked with Gohan, didn't it?"  
  
"I'll consider it," he acknowledged, freeing her from her cornered state. "Though I've seen your 'work.' It does nothing to benefit the Saiyan empire."  
  
"Has anyone ever told you you talk like a fucking computer?" Bulma asked hotly.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you you talk too fucking much?" the prince shot back, smirking.  
  
"Yeah. When they can get a word in edgewise," she said with a grin, then yawned. "Dear KAMI I'm tired. And you can thank bastard number 3 for that. I was awake all night trying to think of the best way to kill him." Vegeta let her walk off, and there was only one thing Bulma could think: /And I thought MONDAYS were bad!/  
  
**============================================**  
  
A small whimper escaped her tightly closed lips as the prince shoved her into a small room at the end of the lab. She fell into a chair, looking at him with wide blue eyes, and Vegeta scowled, firmly shutting the door and locking it. Bulma's heart leapt into her throat as he advanced, scowling. She pushed herself as far away from the Saiyan as she could get, but a little thing called a wall prevented her from escaping.  
  
Vegeta leaned over her, one hand supporting him on the wall as the other reached down for her. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, then shivered as he used her shirt to pull her to her feet. "Stop cowering, wench. I already promised your safety to the king. No one here will bother with you unless ordered by me."  
  
"O, THAT makes me feel better," Bulma snapped, but he smirked at her. Her outburst had just proven that she trusted him enough to believe that he -- or anyone else as long as he was there -- wouldn't hurt her.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me that you can't read, write, or speak our language?" he demanded, ignoring her last comment. She shifted uncomfortably, and Vegeta noticed how stiffly she still held herself. /Humans. Any other respectable species would've been totally healed by now./  
  
"I THOUGHT it was common sense when you take someone from a planet where nobody believes in aliens and put them on a ship from Kami-knows-where. Then again…" She trailed off and grinned at him.  
  
The Saiyan snorted at the implied insult and shook his head. "Wait here, wench. I'll return soon."  
  
Bulma stuck her tongue out at him, followed shortly by the one-finger salute. It was highly unsatisfying, but better than nothing. One he was out of sight, Bulma let herself collapse on the chair and put her face in cupped hands.  
  
/Where is all this COMING from? I mean Nappa couldn't do TOO much because he takes orders from these idiots, but WHY am I giving lip to a guy who doesn't have to ask permission to kill me?/ She was about to investigate that thought, but the door shot open and she sat up, looking guilty.  
  
"Hello, woman," a voice said smoothly, and Bulma leapt out of the chair and into the corner. Turles ducked his head and grinned at her, followed shortly but Vegeta. "It's nice to see you in good health."  
  
Bulma closed her eyes, breath coming short. /How could he do this to me? If it wasn't bad enough watching what he does now I have to EXPERIENCE it too?/  
  
The prince's eye was caught by the sudden movement, and he smirked at he noted how she looked with a flushed face and eyes wide. It was then he saw the stark terror in them, and it was caused by Turles. He glanced at the warrior, who stared at her hungrily and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. /If he DID do anything to her…/ he vowed to himself before he realized what he was doing. Shaking himself, he scowled. /She's only a slave. Worthless./  
  
Vegeta looked down on her and lifted an eyebrow. "Wench, what the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"Not him," she whispered, and as keen as Saiyan ears were, he still had to strain to make out the words. "Please, not him. Get Nappa to do it. Please?"  
  
Vegeta grunted and pulled her to a stop only three feet away from Turles. "As an Elite, he has more important duties than dealing with a lowly slave."  
  
/Yeah, but he's the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm their latest sex toy!/ Bulma thought and was tempted to say it out loud. Instead she redoubled her grip on his wrist and shivered when Turles' eyes fell on her again. /Damn him! He's even dumber than he looks to leave me here with a rapist! Pretty girls don't make it here./  
  
"I expect you two to get started immediately," Vegeta said and Bulma winced as she looked up, noticing the heat in the Saiyan's eyes. She swallowed thickly and backed up a few steps, which resulted in her falling into the previously occupied chair. /I think I'll keep an eye on them. That wench was never actually scared enough to show it until now./  
  
"Of course, my prince," Turles answered sincerely, never taking his eyes from Bulma.  
  
Vegeta again glared at him and nodded slowly. "Good. I'll come back in an hour to see how well she's learning things. Start with the basics."  
  
He closed the door behind him and Turles grinned. Bulma's already wide eyes got even bigger. "So, woman. Where shall we start?"  
  
**============================================**  
  
"For Kami's sake, can't I even make a simple BOMB without you hovering over my shoulder?" Bulma demanded, swatting at Vegeta without taking her eyes from her work. He was surprised when he realized she'd yelled at him in Saiyan. Perfectly.  
  
The prince blinked, then grunted. The slave flung her hair over her shoulder and grinned at him knowingly. "I guess Turles is of more use than I thought," he muttered to himself.  
  
"For once, and ONLY once, I agree with you," Bulma said, carefully tipping a neon orange mix into a steaming red one. She bit her lower lip as a few drops splattered into the concoction. "He's an amazing teacher."  
  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her. "Is this praise for a Saiyan coming from YOU, wench?"  
  
Bulma shrugged and wiped her hands across her pants, then turned to face him. "And WHY do you keep calling me that? Do you even know the MEANING of the word?" she demanded, crossing her arms.  
  
He smirked yet again. "Literally, diplomatically or insultingly?" he asked casually. When she refused to answer, he nodded. "Get back to work. Wench."  
  
Shaking her head, she replied, "Not with you looking over my shoulder ALL the time. Go bother someone else. Tell the evil bastard I paid him a compliment. Just go AWAY." When he didn't move, she sighed and shoved past him, taking residence in a small corner. Sitting cross-legged with her arms on her knees, she smiled. "Then YOU do it. It's not like you don't know HOW by now. Kami knows, you watch me enough."  
  
He sneered, about to answer when another technical slave stuck his head in the door, muttering something in rapid Saiyan to Bulma. With a theatrical sigh, she got to her feet and shook her head. "I am living among BLOCKHEADS!" When the other shouted insults didn't contain one word of profanity, Vegeta was seriously considering sending her to the medical wing.  
  
He caught her by the arm and scowled. "Are you feeling all right, wench?" She looked at him like he just fell out of the stupid truck and nodded. "Then why haven't you cursed him inside out yet?"  
  
"Hmm…" she began with a sly smile. "Could it be because I LIKE the guy? Nah, can't be it. Let's see… because he's not a royal, arrogant bastard? Nope, not that one either." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, glaring at him.  
  
Vegeta, getting the point, scowled and threw her in the general direction of the waiting slave. "Get going wench."  
  
"Glad you said that AFTER you busted my arm," she growled, shaking the injured limb. "Remember, us 'weak humans' are fragile. And I can't blow up the labs with only one good arm." Grinning at the technician, she motioned toward the doors. "Lead the way."  
  
The Saiyan scowled and glared at the other scientists, who went back to work in a hurry. The… verbal debates between the Earth native and the prince were becoming spectator sports, much to the annoyance of both. She had to be the only slave that he let talk back to him and live. He himself was wondering what to do about that.  
  
Vegeta rapped his gloved fingers against the table and glared at the clock. /What could that damned wench be DOING? She's missing work./ When Bulma hadn't returned after nearly ten minutes, he growled and kicked in the door, not bothering with the code. There, he picked up the last of their conversation.  
  
"…SUCH an idiot. I know his REAL power level is over 5,000, but that blundering ASSHOLE doesn't seem to notice he's holding back. Kami knows why. If *I* was him I'd blast my daddy to Kingdom Come and back just to prove that I could." Bulma looked up when her friend yelped, then knelt, shaking. A shadow fell over her and she closed her eyes. "Let me guess. I opened my big mouth just when he walked in." Turning around, she grinned. "Do I get my brand-new car now?"  
  
Vegeta scowled, not understanding the reference and grabbed her arm. "What took you so long wench? And why do you keep saying I'm stronger than I am? Is this some sort of mockery?" he growled.  
  
"Well, pick one question and let me answer it," Bulma said before he could start shaking her. "And hurry up. I'm not missing my lunch break AGAIN because of you."  
  
Ignoring her last comment, the prince grunted. "What the hell is keeping you?"  
  
"The fact that THIS thingy here is missing about 15 VERY important parts, courtesy of a certain Saiyan idiot," she replied with a smile. "But it's no problem to fix. I ran into the same problem when I was testing my new g--"  
  
"Your new WHAT, wench?" Vegeta pressed, smirking at her. When he took a step forward, Bulma put up her hand. He smirked even wider at her pitiful attempt to stop him.  
  
"O no you don't," she replied with a firm shake of her head. "I can fix you damned little playtoy, that's all you need to know." His eyes fell on the still-kneeling slave and Bulma snorted. "And he doesn't know his ass from a hammer so it doesn't matter what he tells you."  
  
"Your WHAT, wench?" he demanded again, scowling.  
  
"Guilt ray?" she asked with a small smile. He glared at her and she shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head."  
  
"The truth would be appropriate," he growled.  
  
"What is this truth? The greatest genius in the world has been defeated by this tiny word!" With that, she fell back into the wall with one hand to her head, the other over her heart. "What is the world coming to?"  
  
"Enough theatrics, wench. Either you tell me or you tell Turles," he threatened.  
  
Bulma brightened. "Fine. I'll tell Turles tomorrow during lessons. Now, if you excuse me, I have my lunch break in 3 minutes." She grinned and winked at the men before disappearing out the doors. Vegeta turned, just figuring out what had happened. /That damned wench. What is she up to?/  
  
The slave behind the prince voiced his opinion in a much simpler manner: "How does she DO that?"  
  
**============================================**  
  
An eyebrow was raised at the warrior as he practically skipped by, smirk dangerously close to a smile. A few blinked at the improved attitude, but Nappa knew better than to trust anything that would make Turles happy. Yet he was headed away from Bulma, which made the older man breathe a little easier.  
  
/Pretty soon the brat will be ready for REAL training, and in the meantime Vegeta's taking longer and longer to check up on us every day. With the boy gone I can concentrate on the woman./ Keeping a straight face was getting harder and harder to do, so he finally let it slip into a cruel smile as he headed toward his nephew's new holding cell. /But for now, it's time to deport the kid./  
  
Gohan growled at him as he stepped into the room, smile breaking out into a full-blown grin. "What do you want?" he snapped, surprisingly, in Saiyan.  
  
Turles blinked, then his grin widened. "It's time for you to go, kid. We don't have all day so come on."  
  
"No! I'm staying here!" he muttered firmly, crossing his arms. As much as he stuttered in his native language, his Saiyan was clear and smooth. As was his glare, which reminded Turles of the prince.  
  
"Brat, I don't have time to--" He was cut off as Gohan's clenched fists started to sparkle with electricity. As soon as he noticed the lightning-shaped flashes of light, a thick beam of red light shot at him. Out of instinct, he put his arm across his face to bar the attack and growled when it bounced away. "Why you little--" He stopped again as he brough his blocking arm down and felt the sudden jolt of pain. Looking at the scorched flesh, bubbles and blisters started popping up on the burn.  
  
"I'm staying here," Gohan repeated, sitting down with his tail flicking behind him in annoyance. He crossed his arms, black eyes focused on his uncle's stunned face. "And where's my mom? I want to see her."  
  
Turles smiled, chuckling darkly as he examined the extent of his injury. "So I guess the little bastard isn't such a baby after all, is he?" Without giving Gohan time to reply, he grinned. "Fine by me. You can stay, brat. But the day after tomorrow your training starts. And we'll see what the king thinks of you." He checked his singed armor as he walked out the door and closed it slowly behind him. /So I guess I'll make my move tomorrow./  
  
**============================================**  
  
Vegeta eyed the pair as Turles tapped Bulma on the shoulder, gently reminding her of the time. She threw her hands up in exasperation and yelled quite a few things at him that neither Saiyan could clearly understand. There was one phrase that made Vegeta smirk: after running low on insults, Bulma had simply called him a "bloody bastard." Which Turles actually understood.  
  
"WENCH!" the prince yelled over the roar of machinery and the half-matched battle of wits. "GO!"  
  
With something that sounded distinctly like "Fuck it," Bulma dropped the vial of clear liquid and some brown powder on the table and threw her longer hair over her shoulder before following her tutor. Vegeta was in a minor state of shock after seeing her obey without so much as a scream of protest. /Finally I'm getting through to her./  
  
From inside the room, Turles waiting until the prince was out of sight before looking back at his beautiful charge. He licked his lips in anticipation as he walked toward her. Bulma, ignorant of his thoughts, flipped through a book and sighed, squinting at the tiny print. Leafing back a few pages, she paused long enough to scan the material before looking up. In that short time he'd arrived at her side and sat down, tail almost brushing her thigh.  
  
"Turles…" she began, then froze when she noticed how close he was to her. She moved over just the slightest bit. "I don't get this whole thing with the--"  
  
The warrior smirked and leaned in to kiss her, one hand going roughly to her shirt and yanking on it, sending buttons flying and the fabric down almost to her waist. The other one ran through her silky hair and pulled none-too-gently on it before cradling her head. Bulma whimpered as she realized that she couldn't pull away and started to shiver. /No, Kami, please…/  
  
Turles stood and started to lean her back, fingers still tearing at the confining cloth. Finally the scientist closed her eyes and grunted, bringing her leg up in a straight line to where no man ever wanted to be kicked. He was stunned enough for her to slip out of his grasp. Bulma, not thinking entirely straight, slid to the ground and saw his tail loosening. She didn't hesitate as she took it and squeezed, nails and teeth gouging at the same time. Turles let out a howl and fell to his knees.  
  
"Sire, I was getting worried about--" Nappa stopped as he heard his partner's cries a split second before Vegeta did. They didn't pause before rushing off, Nappa blasting a hole in the back wall of the lab and going straight for the out-of-the-way room. /If he's yelling that means that we better get ready for a fight. It's not just anybody who can get him to make this much noise./  
  
Vegeta was well ahead of him by now and didn't even blast the wall out of his way. He simply plowed through it, shaking the dust and plaster from his eyes as he did a quick scan of the room. Whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't it. Bulma, half naked and shaking, was crouched in the far corner, leaning against the wall. Turles was flat on his face, fists pounding the floor almost regularly as Bulma's grip continued to tighten.  
  
The prince didn't know whether to laugh or blast the warrior straight to hell. He didn't know where the sudden possessive feeling came from, but he wasn't going to just stand around long enough to sort out its origin either. Nappa's impression of a landed fish lasted a few seconds, then he shook himself and moved to Bulma's side. She only started to quiver more violently, sending another wave of pain to Turles.  
  
He gently took her hand and tried to extract her nails. Not being able to accomplish the feat in one try, he debated cutting them off. Then Vegeta solved the problem by growling and walking purposefully toward the Saiyan. Bulma's eyes snapped open and she misinterpreted the look on Vegeta's face as she shrunk even further into the corner. "No…"  
  
"Quiet, woman," Vegeta growled, turning his attention to a half-sobbing Turles. "I'm here to deal with this bastard." Nodding for the other warrior to get up, he stood over the younger man with an expression Bulma had only seen once in her life; the same look she had when she witnessed the torture and murder of her parents. The look that was just short of her crying in rage. The look that made even Nappa shiver.  
  
"Come on, woman," Nappa said gently, offering her his gigantic hand. She flinched, then tried to smile, having it come out lopsided and looking more like a grimace. "We should get you some clothes."  
  
"Let her stay!" Vegeta ordered, glaring over his shoulder at them. His ki rose significantly as he noticed Nappa had his arms around her shivering form, and Bulma glanced warily at him. /That's the closest he's been to not holding back,/ she realized despite her fear-fogged mind.  
  
"Sire, I really don't think she--" Nappa gulped when the prince's glare focused on him and he nodded slowly. "As you wish." Bulma's arms tightened around her torso and she leaned on him, adrenaline wearing off. Even so, all of her senses were still at a fever high, and she could hear Turles' heavy panting as Vegeta pulled him to his feet.  
  
"You were warned," Vegeta growled through gritted teeth as he took in the younger man's frazzled appearance, "that the king and I have ensured her safety. What made you think you could get away with this?"  
  
Turles, for his credit, knew better than to answer, and the prince scowled. He then slowly smirked, seeing the alarm in the other's black eyes. Without ceremony, Vegeta grasped the bloody end of Turles' tail and yanked on it, pulling the whole thing off. Nappa winced and Bulma sunk to her knees, unsupported as Vegeta stalked back toward them.  
  
"What would he have done if he actually got to go through with it?" Bulma wondered as she watched Vegeta disappear through his hole in the wall.  
  
Nappa spared one last glance at his broken companion. "Killed him."  
  
**============================================**

Leading a half-naked woman through the main cafeteria during the beginning of the afternoon meal wasn't the most brilliant thing Nappa had ever done Despite knowing that Saiyans were completely focused on food the first five minutes of the twenty they were given to eat, it was against any odds that they wouldn't notice something as out of the ordinary as this.  
  
The threatening stares from the women and uncanny silence from the men made Bulma press closer to Nappa, ignoring the abrasive material of the armor and tightening her grip on the front of her shirt. He kept his power level near his maximum as a warning, and most of the Saiyans did take a few steps back, a few of the more daring young men trying to see how close they could get before Nappa got to them.  
  
Bulma actually felt the flick of a tail against the top of her leg and she silenced a shriek before it was half voiced. Over her head Nappa's fist connected solidly with the guy's face, grabbing his tail as he flew back. The entire crowd moved away as Nappa halted, putting one arm across Bulma's shoulders and glaring full circle at the gathered Saiyans. Very few could stand the burning gaze and practically withered under the look. Bulma shivered and let the warrior's arm pull her back against him, tensing. The gesture was more possessive than protective, and she wondered why.  
  
"She is under the protection of the king, the prince, and myself," Nappa growled, silencing the rest of the mutterings. "Anyone who even vaguely tries to make her his mate will go through any punishments the prince and I decide on." That thought alone sent shivers through his audience. If they were still alive after Nappa got through with them they would severely wish that they weren't. Her eyes flashed. /I'm just another THING for them to own,/ she realized and hissed under her breath.  
  
Without another word, Nappa gently pulled Bulma away from her spot against him so he could walk without tripping over her. The cafeteria was silent except for the heavy footsteps of the Saiyan warrior and the lighter, timid ones of Bulma. When the door shut with an audible click, not one eye blinked.  
  
"Don't worry about them, woman," Nappa said calmly, pulling away even more when he realized that she was still shaking. "They won't try anything that stupid when they know who you're under."  
  
Bulma glared at him half-heartedly, emotions gone haywire. "I'm not worried about THEM," she said in a soft hiss. Even so close, Nappa had to strain to hear her. /I'm worried about Vegeta. He doesn't NEED permission to do whatever he wants to me./  
  
"Then who?" Nappa asked, and she turned her head away, pretending to be focused on an interesting crack in the wall. He sighed and shook his head, willing to leave the topic for now. He knew Vegeta would "visit" her to get all the details, which would only terrorize her further. She didn't need him doing the same thing now.  
  
They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, until he noticed her half-hidden limp. He also eyed the dark streaks of mostly dried blood on her back, and from the looks of it, it ran down her chest as well. With an audible growl, startling her, he grabbed her upper arm in a grip hard enough to make tears come to her eyes, he pulled her down an empty hallway.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me he hurt you, woman?" Nappa demanded, glaring at her. Bulma gritted her teeth and tried to pull her arm away. It was then the Saiyan realized that his anger had gotten the better of him and he hastily let go. She nursed the sore limb with a vacant expression on her face, not looking at him. "Well?"  
  
"Well what?" she snapped, stopping and moving her knee to try and ease the pain. Glaring up at him, Bulma flicked her hair out of her eyes in annoyance. "I would've thought it was obvious when I was sitting there BLEEDING all over him."  
  
Nappa grunted and steered her in the direction of the medical wing, scowling but watching how hard he held onto her. Every time Bulma made a face he loosened his grip. Finally she couldn't keep up, her knee having taken the brunt of the damage. /Damn,/ she swore, trying to keep the joint from locking up. /I wish I'd known this was going to happen BEFORE I kicked him. This fucking HURTS./ She surprised herself by not complaining about it literally every step of the way. In fact, it was only because silent tears started streaming down her face that Nappa even knew how much pain she was in.  
  
The guard paused long enough to tug her even with him, then swept her off her feet and laid her over his shoulder, bracing her knee with his arm. Bulma growled and reached for his tail, which he tapped her on the top of her head with. "I have outgrown that weakness as well, woman."  
  
"Put me down! I am NOT a sack of potatoes!" she yelled in his ear, making him wince. His arm hand moved from her ankle to her waist, keeping her from squirming as they came to a door. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
He looked at her calmly out of the corner of his eye, saying nothing as he punched in a code. Bulma grunted in pain when she tried to move and found herself firmly tucked between his shoulder and his arm. Blue eyes wide, she pounded on his back, shredding her knuckles.  
  
Nappa plunked her down on a table and scowled, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her sides, averting his eyes when her top started to slide. "Stop that, woman. That's only another thing to be treated."  
  
"Why am I even HERE?" she demanded, making a valiant attempt to cross her arms. "All it is is a few scratches and--" She cut herself off when something that felt remarkably like a needle slid into her back. "What the--"  
  
Nappa looked over her head at the doctor. "Thank you. Now, woman, you are one of the most intelligent slaves on this ship, but I think your common sense in nonexistent." Bulma only scowled and he smirked at her. "What if you were mixing chemicals toxic to humans?" he asked, seeing her eyes darken. As she thought that prospect over, he nodded to the other Saiyan. "Put her in one of the tanks."  
  
"NO!" Bulma's hands almost came off the table and Nappa was surprised at her sudden strength. A look of complete and utter terror came over her face and the guard shook his head, glancing at the needle. Supposedly it had held a tranquilizer. Supposedly.  
  
"And why not, woman?" he demanded in exasperation. Yet he couldn't help feeling a little admiration toward her. /She's been orphaned, kidnapped, tortured, almost raped, and practically sold out to the enemy, and yet she STILL manages to be a pain in everyone's ass./  
  
"Because I prefer my clothes ON," she stated simply.  
  
"You're half undressed already," he said, crossing his arms and freeing hers.  
  
She rubbed her wrists tenderly, glaring at him before she spoke. "My point exactly."  
  
"Mine too." Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the doctor, who was slightly amazed at the goings on. Nappa rapped his fingers against the table. "What do you think?"  
  
"If she doesn't want to go in the tanks, she doesn't have to. She'll just be here longer," he answered with a kind smile. Bulma, despite herself, found herself smiling back.  
  
Nappa rolled his eyes. "You don't have to give a second thought to HIM, woman. He won't do a damned thing that you don't want him to do." With a smirk, he added, "I thought you might appreciate that."  
  
She refused to acknowledge that and turned to the younger Saiyan. Before she could open her mouth, Nappa grunted and started toward the door. It had already swished open when she glanced over. "Nappa," she called softly, and he paused, looking at her. Playing with the hem of her shirt, she looked down with a slight blush. "Thank you."  
  
**============================================**  
  
There came an exhausted sigh from behind her as Vegeta stormed into the room, murder clearly set in his expression. Ignoring the doctor, he marched over to Bulma and snatched away her doodles and figures. She only eyed him, noticing for the umpteenth time how low his power stayed even when he was on the verge of becoming a raving lunatic. /Raving being the key word,/ she thought to herself as she glared at him. /As for lunatic, he's already there./  
  
"Woman!" he growled, and she raised an eyebrow. /Since when did he stop calling me 'wench'?/ Vegeta's fist landed on the table, nearly splitting it in half. "Why weren't you in the labs this morning?"  
  
"Well, could it be that I was nearly RAPED two days ago?" she declared in a sneer. "No, that's too obvious. How about the fact that I can hardly bend over because there's not a part of me that hasn't been bandaged yet? Don't think that's it either."  
  
She was about to go on but the prince got there first. "I don't care, woman. You are a SLAVE, and you will work, injured or not!" His hand came dangerously close to hitting her, and Bulma flinched at the sound of the impact. But she wasn't about to back down.  
  
"Fine," she hissed, trying to sit up straighter. The doctor merely put his hands on her shoulders to keep her down. She growled and scowled at Vegeta, baring her teeth. "When I drop a chemical that turns the floor into atoms and we all get sucked out into a black hole then maybe, just MAYBE, you'll figure out how much of an idiot you're being." Bulma took a deep breath, realizing that yelling at him had actually taken effort.  
  
Vegeta's arm came up threateningly, but she only glared at him with cold blue eyes, practically daring him to hit her. /So weak, and yet she's not afraid./ He scowled at the thought and his hand lowered. He had to think about that one.  
  
"Sire," the doctor piped up quietly. The prince's burning gaze landed on him, and he nearly lost his nerve. Clearing his throat, he continued hoarsely. "She should only be in here another day or two."  
  
"She would be fine if you'd put her in there to begin with." His eyes flicked over to glance at the empty tank across the room, then settled back on Bulma, who had stopped looking at him and found a rather interesting stain on the floor to study. He couldn't help but notice the slight shiver at the mention of the regeneration tanks. He smirked at her and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You have a problem with them, woman?" he demanded, amusement lacing his voice.  
  
"Damned right," she answered, trying to jerk her head away. When she couldn't, she glared at him wordlessly and crossed her arms.  
  
When it finally became clear that she wasn't going to elaborate on her own, Vegeta scowled and pulled her off the table. "Explain, woman," he demanded, releasing her chin. Bulma leaned against the table, closing her eyes until the white spots disappeared. "NOW," he growled.  
  
"Sorry," Bulma moaned sarcastically. "But when my head, my back and my leg are holding a which-hurts-worst contest, I put everything else on hold. ESPECIALLY a pampered palace PRICK like you." She thanked Kami that he didn't know exactly what a prick was and glared up at him. "You can wait."  
  
She eased back onto the table and stretched out, groaning from the effort. /I'll kill the bastard with my bare hands,/ she decided as she looked at the scowling prince. /Then him./ He seemed to be waiting for her to continue, and not patiently. Vegeta's tail was whipping behind him so fast he could hear it.  
  
"I've waited long enough, woman," Vegeta said firmly, crossing his arms. "What are you so afraid of?"  
  
"I've got my pride," she answered with all the dignity of the prince. "Or what's left of it after Turles and Nappa DISCREETLY showed off what happened to the entire ship and crew." The acid in her voice made even the Saiyan blink. "After that I'm sure as hell not going to be put on display."  
  
"You're ashamed," he summed up with a smirk. Bulma's eyes flashed dangerously and the doctor, too afraid of Vegeta to object, rested his palm on her arm. The prince's eyes fell on the man's hand and he felt a sudden surge of rage and jealousy. /O for the love of Kami. What's his problem now?/  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Of what? Being seen by anyone who saunters by? Sorry to say that's ALREADY happened. In spades." His face went blank at the Earth expression and she rolled her eyes. "And guess what happened THEN? NAPPA was with me and some idiots tried to pull something. Can you imagine what will happen if I'm in here with just HIM? The whole protection plan just took a flying leap out the window." Then she scowled. "Not like it was working all that well to begin with."  
  
Vegeta's expression darkened and he seemed to think that over. He turned to the doctor and nodded. "Heal her in two days. After that she will be in the labs whether or not you succeed." He gave another solid glare at Bulma and left.  
  
She sighed and relaxed under the Saiyan's hand. "Hell has no wrath like a woman scorned," she muttered with a lazy smile. "Or just me on a bad day."  
  
**============================================**  
  
The woman was a proven medical miracle. Vegeta watched from the shadows as the doctor ran his hand through his unruly Saiyan hair and ranted incoherently. The prince finally picked up that the sedative that he'd given her on her first day was finally starting to kick in, and Bulma was wobbling back and forth in an effort to stay awake. Vegeta smirked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. /So it seems that humans aren't quite as weak as I thought./ Any Saiyan drug given to her took anywhere from 10 to 24 hours to start working, as the poor man was figuring out.  
  
He mentally shook his head and turned his thoughts to the warriors on the other side of the room. A handful of men had made it back to the mother ship and were currently in the rest of the tanks. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the face of their leader. He scowled darkly, seeing how much of a resemblance there was to Turles. And, according to Bulma, both looked exactly like Kakorrot. Yet as he saw their power levels, he raised an eyebrow. /I think I just found the brat's next trainer./  
  
His attention was drawn back to the blue-haired slave as she slid forward, stubbornly keeping her eyes open. The doctor hovered at her side, blocking his view. Vegeta grunted, getting the other Saiyan to straighten. Bulma sighed as she fought the drug, but the doctor smiled and gently laid her back, pulling the blankets up to her chest.  
  
"That will keep you out for a few days, woman," he said kindly, removing her infamous notepad and chewed-up pencil from her lap. and placing it gently on the mini table next to her bed. "When you wake up, you should be completely healed."  
  
Vegeta pushed away from the wall and neared the unconscious Bulma. Never taking his eyes from her, he growled to the other man, "How long will she be in here?"  
  
"I don't know, sire," he admitted shakily. Something about Vegeta gave him the creeps, though he would never admit it to the prince. "It's taken this long for the sedative to work, so I don't know how long it will keep her unconscious. I know for certain that it will be at least a day."  
  
"Alert me when she's healed," Vegeta ordered, finally looking away when he realized where he'd been staring. /Woman, I don't know what kind of witch you are, but I will break this damned spell,/ he swore to himself. Glancing down at the notepad, he found several diagrams and sketches. Cocking his head to look at it, Vegeta snorted and disregarded it as worthless.  
  
The doctor, however, jumped at the new subject. "Sire, she wanted me to tell you about these," he began, flipping through the pages. He handed the booklet to the prince with a strained smile. "She said something about returning a favor."  
  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow as he skimmed the perfect Saiyan writing, gaze turning thoughtful. Bulma spent almost three pages telling him how stupid, arrogant, short, and bastardous he was. Then again, the insults were there to prove a point, as she noted how much he held back and how not to. He smirked down at the sleeping Bulma and tucked the entire pad into his armor.  
  
"It will make some interesting reading," Vegeta admitted with a sly smirk. Then he glanced back at the other Saiyans. "Tell me," he said, turning to face the other row of tanks. "Which one of them would be able to prepare a potential warrior for a full moon presentation?"  
  
"I think the leader," he said meekly, looking over the men. "Bardock." Vegeta smirked and looked at the scarred Saiyan. /Perfect./ 


	3. Part 3: Meetings

Part 3:

Black-lined lips turned up at their corners in a slight gesture of amusement, almost a smile. Dark eyes narrowed as a white hand brushed across the screen, the only light in the room. He watched the young prince and took in the look on the man's face when he glared at their newest slave girl. /He wants her as his mate,/ he realized,  interpreting the prince's expression. A cruel smirk replaced the half-smile as an idea dusted itself off in the corner of his mind. /This should prove more than interesting to the king. Especially since the girl is HIS./

With a short chuckle, he eased out of the chair and turned his languid steps toward the hallway leading to the labs. He'd need the logs for this. He could hear the scattering of the guards even before the door fully opened and the smirk became even more pronounced. For once, he wasn't thinking about killing off his own soldiers. His aim was much higher.

/I think I'll play with the monkeys a little more before I exterminate them,/ he thought almost cheerfully. /And that girl can be quite useful to me. All she needs is a little information./ Passing men who dared to look at him could swear he was almost dancing with glee. /Then her friends will kill off the prince and everyone else who gets in their way. I won't have to do a damned thing and my problem will be solved anyway./

With that thought in mind, he continued down the empty corridor, hands behind his back and tail dragging. He pressed his hand to the entrance pad and smirked again. This was so much more entertaining than doing it himself. And it took a little more creativity. /This time, I guess I have to thank them. My way./ 

**============================================**

He didn't know how it happened. One minute she was laying there, eyes closed and even peaceful-looking and the next she was up tearing around the room with papers, sheets and chunks of wood flying everywhere. The doctor jumped up and scowled, disintegrating everything that headed in his general direction before he could see Bulma. The blue-haired woman was currently half-under the bed. Then she popped out with several swears and yanked the blankets off, tossing them behind her before trying to move the offending objects that kept her from checking behind the bed.

He finally seized her wrists and pinned them to her sides before shoving her down on the bed. By some strange instinct, he didn't let go. "Woman, WHAT the hell are you doing? You're still recovering, and there is no need to overexert yourself like that!"

Bulma bristled and glared at him, almost in Vegeta's category. But the doctor -- whose name she still hadn't figure out -- only glared back. And he WAS in Vegeta's category, only intimidating too. Finally she just snorted. "Where is it?" she finally demanded.

The Saiyan blinked in confusion. "Where is what?" He could see that she was getting geared up again and growled, getting her attention. "I asked you a question, woman."

"Yeah, well I asked one too," she shot back, wiggling in his grip. She tried to fix her clothes while his fingers dug into her skin and eventually she gave up for fear of breaking something important. Like her entire arm. "You really don't know, do you?" she realized, twisting uncomfortably to look at him.

"Woman, if I did, I would tell you," he stated calmly, easing his grip as he noticed her hand was turning blue. "I don't have any reason not to."

"My sketchbook," she informed him, shaking hair out of her face. "The one with the note to Vegeta." Then she studied him as she saw the slight widening of his eyes. And it wasn't from the lack of the prince's title.

The Saiyan shook her arm. "Should I let you go?" he inquired, seeing that the coloring hadn't gotten any better.

Bulma looked down and saw the matching color of her hair, eyes and hand. "Are you about to tell me something I won't like?" After a moment of consideration, he nodded. "Then hang on," she said grimly.

With that warning in mind, he took half a step back. "Prince Vegeta has it," he said softly. Bulma went rigid, eyes wide. "I told him about the comments and he--" All of a sudden he knew why she'd told him to hold on. If he hadn't, everything that wasn't nailed down would've flown to the other wide of the room. Express delivery. And she couldn't use ki. He shivered to think what she could do with it.

Bulma actually tore one arm out of his grip and whirled around to face him. "WHY did you let that little son of a bitch have it?" she growled dangerously. "That has EVERYTHING in it! EVERYTHING!" She pounded her free hand on his chest. Amazingly enough, he felt it.

"Woman," he began, recapturing her fist. That sent her completely off the deep end.

"And my NAME is BULMA!" she screamed, delivering a kick to his inner thigh. He'd only just avoided it making contact with a more sensitive area. "Not that he's gonna care after reading it." Her voice had dropped to a hiss again. "He'll know every other nickname I've had."

"Woman, CALM DOWN!" he yelled over her. Bulma glared at him, mouth open. Transferring her wrists to one hand, he clamped the other over her mouth and leaned in closer. "There's nothing you can do about it now, woman," he growled. "The most you can do is go to Prince Vegeta and ask for it back. I highly doubt that he can understand it anyway because he considers it below him to learn to read the native language of the slaves."

When he was sure she wouldn't blow up, he slowly removed his hand. Bulma wet her lips and looked at him, then down at herself. "I'm better now," she promised. He raised a skeptical eyebrow and she grinned. "Really. PMS isn't TOTALLY in control yet."

The Saiyan snorted and shook his head. "Don't act like that in front of the prince," he warned. "You won't live through it." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she muttered, then eyed him. "By the way, where IS he?"

**============================================**

Trying to ignore both the pacing of the impatient Saiyan and the hairs rising on the back of his neck, he cocked his head, then turned the paper 90º, looked at it, turned it the other way, then did a 180 and stared at it upside down. Finally he took it over to a mirror and glared at the papers with hatred. Finally he threw them down on the desk and turned to face the other occupant of the room.

"I don't know, sire," he said, frustrated. "It's some sort of code, but I can't read it let alone break it."

Vegeta growled and trekked over to the slightly torn documents and focused on the sketch. He couldn't read anything, but he had a pretty good idea of what it could be. Now all he had to do was wait for the slave to wake up. The thought irritated him. /I'm the prince of all Saiyans,/ he snapped at himself. /I shouldn't have to rely on some HUMAN slave woman./ Then he turned his scowl on Bardock, who was trying to interpret the writing.

The sounds of a lock being rewired met the men's ears and the prince scowled. Crossing his arms, he glared at Bulma as she marched in the door, clearly not happy. "Woman, when will you stop doing that?"

"When you stop calling me 'woman' and use my given name AND when you give me the codes so I don't have to." Then whatever respect she had in her tone dropped. "Where the hell is my notebook?"

Vegeta smirked and tapped his armor. Bulma's eyes narrowed and she held out her hand. "I'm not finished with it yet, woman," the prince declared and she rolled her eyes.

"What would his royal pain in the ass want with a servant's sketchpad?" she asked slyly. "And more importantly, why would he want to read it?"

"Such things are below my interest, woman," he said royally, which earned him a snort. "What are you implying by that?" He glanced over at Bardock, who had the paper up to the light, his back to them and half in front of the mirror.

"So then that ass over there" -- she jerked her thumb toward Bardock, who seemed oblivious -- "is standing there with one of my papers, holding it upside down in a mirror and trying to read it backwards is doing it for his health." Vegeta snarled and Bulma smirked at him. "I thought that my inventions, and I QUOTE, 'were not beneficial to the Saiyan empire.' Liar."

Vegeta picked her up by the sleeves of her shirt and pinned her against the wall above him, expression dangerous. Bulma bit back a cry and opened her eyes when no further pain made itself known. The prince seemed to be fighting with himself. Finally he glared up at her and let her go. She dropped to the floor in an ungraceful heap as he stalked over to Bardock and ripped the pages from his hands. She could feel his power rise and noted that he'd finally swallowed his pride and read the notes. /Too bad he didn't choke and die on it./

The Saiyan dumped the documents in her lap. "Read them," he hissed. Bulma glared at him and deliberately ripped the papers in two, then dropped them on the floor and stood, tearing them more and smearing the ink. Vegeta's eyes narrowed so he slammed them against his chest and shook her head. "I'll be in my room," she yelled over her shoulder as the warrior threw the useless things on the table. Bardock snatched them up as the door closed and Bulma gave her final comment. "You guys really are idiots."

The soldier carefully latched onto Vegeta's arm to keep him from going after her. "Prince Vegeta, look." The other Saiyan stared in concealed amazement as the jumble of letters/numbers started to make sense. At least to his eyes, since he still didn't know what it meant. Bardock grinned at him. "I can translate these for you now, sire."

Vegeta grunted and glared at the paperwork. "No. Get the brat ready. We'll be back in time for the full moon ceremony and I want him there for presentation. Otherwise he's useless."

Bardock nodded grimly. "He'd have to wait another 7 years. All that power wasted."

The prince scowled and glared at him. "That's why you're going to get going now, isn't it?"

The younger warrior nodded hastily, then bowed out. "Yes, sire."

Vegeta looked down at the intricate piecing together of the quarters. With a slight shrug he thoughtfully tucked them in beside Bulma's beloved notepad. They might be useful after all.

**============================================**

"Come on, kid, hit me," he hissed, powering up a ball in his fist, the light shining on his grandson's bloody face. Gohan growled and went back into a defensive fighting stance, wiping the sticky fluid from his jaw with the back of his hand. Bardock chuckled and hurled the blast at him. Much to his surprise, Gohan batted it away and charged straight at the seasoned warrior.

Bardock stepped to the side, about to land another blow to his back when his young student twisted around and grabbed the man's shirt, then slammed his other hand, full with a ki blast, straight into the center of the Saiyan's chest. Bardock wheezed as he flew back and caught his balance after only a foot or so. But it was enough time for Gohan to recover and return to his defensive crouch once more.

The full-blooded Saiyan gingerly put a hand to his chest and winced, bringing his fingers away red. Then he looked at the boy in shock. Slowly, he smiled, which sent Gohan's arm up even more protectively.

Bardock chuckled and nodded, rubbing at his newly acquired wound.

"I have to say I'm impressed, kid. It isn't just any little run-of-the-mill brat who can lay a hand on me let alone leave me a memento." He grinned and inched closer before drawing into his own stance. "But you'll have to do better than that. You have three weeks to get in two year's worth of training." Gohan glared at him as he smirked, then without any signal, lunged again.

**============================================**

She crossed her arms and sighed at the inevitable as she was first caught by the nape of her neck, growled at, then dragged to the small conference room at the other end of the lab. Stumbling when Vegeta threw her in, she noticed with some interest that the side wall had been fixed and refurnished after the last time she'd been in there.

Turning her cold glare to Vegeta, she scowled when he turned around. For once, he beat her to the punch. "Woman! Are you mad!" he growled, taking a step forward.

Bulma cocked an eyebrow. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," she answered calmly, leaning against the wall. Then out of the blue, her hormones kicked in. /Kami he looks cute when he's pissed./  Her mind was about to let that go when she shook her head in amazement. /Where the hell did THAT come from? He's VEGETA! He's not CUTE! He's ugly as sin with the personality of a wet mop AND a brick!/

The prince nearly rolled his eyes. "You're in heat, woman, and it's driving almost every man on this ship to the brink of insanity."

She looked at him coyly. "And how would YOU all know this?" she demanded.

"Any fool can smell it a mile away," he hissed, realized what he just said seconds before she picked up on it and continued. "And that's only a fool. Anyone more intelligent knows that the best time to take a mate is when she's in heat because her urge to fight back is more prominent."

Bulma just looked at him, then burst out laughing. "I don't believe this. The mighty prince of all Saiyans is giving me a lecture on PMS." She wiped tears from her eyes and grinned. "Thanks, Vegeta. I haven't laughed that hard in months."

Vegeta overlooked the missing rank and smirked. /I don't think she'll find this quite as funny./ He cleared his throat, getting her to look at him. "Until this passes you will be confined to your quarters."

She gaped at him and he smirked, fighting back a sudden urge to smile. "You're… you're GROUNDING me?" she asked in a tone of disbelief. "My PARENTS didn't even do that and once in a while I would actually LISTEN to them!" She crossed her arms. "No way in hell."

The prince smirked and leaned closer to whisper to her. "Well, woman, if you want a repeat of what almost happened in here with Turles then by all means proceed as usual." Bulma shivered at the memory and he drew away. "Will you stay in your quarters, woman?"

"If you give me my notebook," she replied, sitting back and crossing her arms.

"I don't think you're in a position to be bargaining, woman." 

"Then you should think a little harder because if anything happens to me it's YOUR head the king'll want on a silver platter," she said with a grin. "So if you give me my sketchpad then I'll go to my room and be a good little girl." She extended her hand with a superior smirk.

Vegeta glared but started to reach inside his armor for the trouble-making book. He tossed it on her lap. "There, woman. Are you happy?"

"Better," she admitted. Then she looked at him from under her eyelashes. "Does this mean I get my own lab too?" Vegeta gawked at her, started muttering in Saiyan and slammed the door closed behind him. Bulma grinned and started to twiddle her thumbs. /What to do for a week./

**============================================**

Vegeta sneered as he looked over the fallen soldiers. All except one was unconscious, and he was the only second-class guard sent to get him in a group of Elites. The prince growled and hoisted the sputtering man to his feet, then a little bit higher so that the tips of his boots dangled just above his own ankles. The Saiyan's eyes widened as Vegeta pulled him closer, smirking in triumph. The look he gave to the guard was the same one he usually reserved for the rare instances when he won a verbal debate with Bulma.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, shaking the terrified man. "Not only do I GIVE orders to you, all of the king's guards together couldn't have beaten me. So why do you even attempt?"

"Orders… from the king," he replied, rapidly turning several interesting shades of blue. Vegeta scowled but loosened his grip just enough for him to get enough air to continue. "About the slave woman…"

"What about her?" Vegeta hissed, baring his teeth and unconsciously letting his ki rise high enough for his captive to feel the heat. The Saiyan tried to gulp but found the gloved hand's grip too restraining. "Well?" The guard frantically motioned to his throat, eyes starting to glaze over. When he turned deep purple, Vegeta transferred his hand to the man's armor and the younger soldier gasped heavily.

Once he was sure he was able to breathe, he looked down at Vegeta. "She marked you sire…" His eyes and the prince's hand fell on the fading red mark standing out vividly against the pale skin. Black eyes turned dangerous in warning but the taller man didn't hesitate. "And it's forbidden to mate with a slave."

The guard suddenly found himself halfway through the wall and a furious Vegeta shoving him back even farther. "She's a human," he growled. "She doesn't know HOW to mark her mate, and even if she did, it wouldn't be me because I wouldn't LET her. I have no use for that infernal woman!" Vegeta realized he was beginning to ramble and scowled again, pulling back.

"The king doesn't know that," he said tiredly, trying to ignore the pain from his waist down, especially his tail. "He ordered her to be brought to the throne room." The prince was out of sight before he reached the ground.

**============================================**

With a deep sigh, Bulma brushed her aqua hair behind her ear and looked back at the computer screen fondly. A picture of Yamcha that had unknowingly been tucked in her jeans pocket was now displayed as the screen saver. Ever since she'd been confined to her room she'd been thinking more and more about her late boyfriend. She winked at the computer and traversed the room to plop down on the bed in boredom. It wasn't even like she could surf the net anymore, as the net didn't exist in Saiyan technology. A wry smile touched her lips at the thought as she curled up on her side and took one last look at the picture.

"Night Yamcha," she muttered with a yawn, even though the ship's lights were still on at full. No sooner had she closed her eyes than a buzzer went off from one of the various search engines she'd installed her first day. With a groan, Bulma pulled herself off the bed and growled at the red stain left behind. /Well, what's a woman to do with no supplies?/

"Wakey wakey," she told the computer, tilting the chair back onto two legs. It instantly skipped to the screen with the information. Eyes wide, Bulma gaped at the detail. Then she grinned. "This looks important," she said in a little kid voice, maniac expression planted firmly on her face. "Like someone's logs. Oops." Copying and pasting the type into the memory where it automatically put a password to it, she cleared the page and ran a hand through her hair confidently. "Lycos, sit and stay. *I* can go get it." She reread the top words to herself. "Namek dragonballs. I am SO good!"

As soon as the last syllable was out of her mouth, the door burst open, which left Bulma on the floor in surprise. She glared at the approaching Saiyans. /Wow. Three. Should that be a compliment?/ Now she was on her feet, arms crossed and doing a decent imitation of Vegeta's detached and annoyed stare.

"Come on, woman," the guy she assumed to be the leader said, beckoning for her to get closer.

Bulma snorted. /Right. The last time a guy did that to me I got the living crap kicked out of me./ "Come where?" she demanded hotly.

"The king wishes to see you," he replied with a smirk, edging closer. That kicked her nerves into high gear and she glared from one man to another until finally she shrugged and leaned against the wall. "NOW, woman. He doesn't like to wait."

"Yeah, well I don't like to see his ugly mug either," she growled back. "I see it everyday, only with Vegeta there's an annoying VOICE to go with it. And don't even get me STARTED on his attitude."

That made them pause long enough for Bulma to click off the monitor and shut down the computer. Finally the leader pulled himself together and started toward her. "The king and the prince will deal with that, woman." He obviously didn't know what a mug meant or she would be in much more pain that usual about then. She ducked under his incoming arm and went straight for his tail. The simple technique of nails and teeth applied on Turles had the same effect on the guard.

Bulma kept a stranglehold on the Saiyan's extra appendage while trying to make sure she could see both of his partners. They looked at each other, nodded, and went to opposite sides of her. She growled, sending another wave of pain through the doubled-over man she held hostage.

The one on her left lunged and she sunk into a kneel, swiping at his knees as he rolled to his feet. When he grunted and fell, she realized that she'd miscalculated and aimed too high. Without hesitation she grabbed his tail as well and held them in one hand while glaring at the last man. He looked more than a bit surprised, then scowled and looked over the position of his comrade and Bulma. Then he blinked out of view.

"Damn," she swore as she tried to feel his energy. Too late she realized he was at her side. Bulma never saw the blow coming.

**============================================**

With a loud grunt, Bulma was thrown to all fours in front of the king. She rose to her knees to dust herself off when a strong Saiyan hand clamped down on the back of her neck and pushed her to the floor. The guard knelt beside her, lowering his head in respect to his superior. Bulma growled but knew better than to try and shake him loose. That and the power radiating from the shadows was enough to knock her over.

"This is the one, sire," he said quietly, looking at the scientist out of the corner of his eye.

The king raised an eyebrow cockily. "The one who hates him so?"

He rose and Bulma suddenly got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She clenched her fists on the red carpet and gritted her teeth as he moved closer. The Saiyan snatched her by her hair and yanked her to her feet. Bulma yelped when some of the longer strands came loose in his gloves. The king smirked and she scowled through the slight pain and slapped at his hand.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, jerking her head away. He made a show of opening his hand and taking a step back. She pushed her now messed-up hair back into place and crossed her arms. The moment she did, he grabbed her around the throat and lifted her over his head. Bulma went white and brought her arms up to take the pressure off of her chin. /Well, at least hard work has one advantage,/ she thought dryly, knowing that six months ago she wouldn't have been strong enough to hold her own weight like this.

"And don't give me orders, wench," he said calmly, tightening his fist. Bulma made a choking sound, but no verbal comment. The king looked over at the impassive guard. "Get the whip."

Bulma's eyes widened and she finally started to struggle. The only time she'd been unlucky enough to encounter the whip was her first attempt at escape, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to a second meeting. Blue eyes swinging about wildly, she finally paused and looked down. Her feet dangled just above her favorite target. With a grunt, she allowed herself to dip down just low enough for her to kick him.

The king looked a bit dazed, black eyes unfocused. She took the opportunity to do it again and felt his hand loosen. Praying to Kami, Bulma forced his fingers open and dropped the last foot to the ground. The whip flashed inches in front of her and the scientist reeled back onto the injured Saiyan. She yelped again as the tip came nearer and jumped back over the groaning king, hiding herself behind his bulk.

The guard started to circle, whip in hand as Bulma stayed low and close to the king. The other Saiyan wasn't stupid enough to hit his leader, yet he wasn't quite smart enough to just move faster than she could see. /Must be a rookie./ She swallowed thickly when the king started to recover and rolled over. Bulma closed her eyes when the Saiyan got to his feet and started toward her. The breeze from a missed blow swept back her hair and she slowly opened one eye to see why it hadn't connected.

Vegeta was standing calmly with his father's fist cradled between his arm and side. The older man was obviously trying to free his hand because he kept jerking and growling threats. Bulma would bet her life that the prince was smirking. Finally he moved his arm and the king stumbled back, glaring at his son in amazement. The guard dropped the whip in surprise and Bulma back up anyway so she rested against a pillar, one corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"What is this about?" Vegeta demanded, spitting off to the side before glaring at the still shocked Saiyan.

The older man finally composed himself and snarled. "You're mating with a low-class, pitiful excuse for a SLAVE, brat!"

Bulma tensed indignantly. "Why you arrogant, conceited, overconfident, inflated, self-centered, pompous, boastful, self-magnifying, cocky, presumptuous, brazen little prick!"

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow at her. "Only that?" he huffed with a roll of his eyes.

"There are virgin ears around," Bulma explained, motioning to the onlooking/gaping guard.

The prince snorted and turned his attention to the infuriated king. "Why would *I*, a Saiyan prince, mate with such a weak and highly ANNOYING woman?" he demanded, crossing his arms as he waited for the blue-haired woman to comment.

"Yeah," Bulma chipped in, glaring at both royal men. As if on cue, both raised an eyebrow, the only difference in their expressions being the king's beard. "Knock it off! I don't need TWO of you looking at me like that!" She smirked and slowly got to her feet. "This is all about me biting him, right?" She pulled on one side of her shirt, then the other to reveal her bare neck. "And from what I understand, he has to bite me back. Hasn't happened, not GONNA happen."

"Agreed," Vegeta muttered, though he did eye curiously. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Now that you have seen how absolutely idiotic this all is, BOTH of us have work to do." With that, the prince grabbed Bulma by the arm and hauled her down the carpet. The alien woman sighed in relief and sagged against the now closed door. "THAT was unpleasant." She barely had time to look up when Vegeta was standing in front of her, looking fit to kill. "What?"

"Woman, what the hell were you THINKING?"

"Who's the guy in the corner with a power level equivalent to my entire planet," she replied automatically. The Saiyan's eyes went wide and Bulma took the opportunity to continue. "That and why you suddenly came to save me."

"Because of this," Vegeta answered, pulling a folded model out of his armor. Her jaw dropped as he set up the object on his palm and held it out for her to see.

/No WAY,/ she repeated to herself. /How did he figure that out? How did he figure out which papers ripped which way? And what does that stupid machine have to do with him?/ Bulma closed her mouth and wet her lips before slowly reaching for the model. "How…"

Vegeta smirked and retracted his hand just as her fingertips brushed the sides of the paper. "After two or three pieces, it started to look like a puzzle, woman. It was fairly easy for even a Saiyan toddler to do." His smirk broadened as she took all of this information in and returned to doing her impression of a landed fish. "Especially since children are often given puzzles to strengthen their mind."

"So how did you get all the sides?" Bulma wondered out loud. "I only showed you one."

"I made copies, woman. I'm not as stupid as you think I am. And I know THAT is saying something."

Seeing that this battle was somehow going downhill, Bulma tried one more shot. "Yeah, well. You never would've figured it out if I hadn't shown you."

That was where Vegeta's mouth started to twitch until it curved into his cold victory smile. "Your mistake." He smirked once more before turning toward his quarters.

Bulma sulked as she turned toward her own room, then suddenly straightened. "Hey! He never answered me about the dude in the corner." She debated chasing the prince but decided that one defeat was enough for the day.

**============================================**

In the shadows, Frieza was nearly hopping up and down in silent rage. /That little ASSHOLE!/ he thundered to himself. /How could that stupid monkey weasel his way out of that? It was written all over his face and that blind BASTARD lets him walk away!/ His tail slapped against the wall as he tried to force himself to calm down. Taking deep breaths, he scowled and narrowed his eyes at the Saiyan king. /No matter. I will have him, then the rest of the empire will simply fall into my hands. I just need the little PRINCE away from his goddamned father./ Then he slowly smirked and straightened to his full (yet short) height. /I will lead the woman to Namek. He will surely follow then. After that, this will be so simple./

With a scowl, he stepped out of the shadows, hands behind his back. The Saiyan rose and greeted him silently with a slight bow. "You were right, Lord Frieza," he commented quietly, offering his throne to the other ruler. "There's just no way to PROVE it!"

The smaller alien looked up at the other man. "Perhaps getting away from the planet would lower his defenses a little," he suggested casually, unwilling to show how much he NEEDED Vegeta away from other Saiyans.

The king stiffened. As much as he feared Frieza, there was no way he was letting the prince off Vegetasei without him. "Absolutely NOT!" he heard himself saying. "The prince causes enough mayhem on our planets as it is. I can only imagine what he would do ON them, and unsupervised!"

Frieza snorted, then saw the opportunity for what it was. Smirking to himself, he leaned on the armrest of the throne. "What if we sent him to a world NOT under your control?" /He can't resist that. Not if he still wants to be a part of the planet trade./

"I'll consider it," he said slowly, then turned his gaze on the doors. "I'm sorry for seeming in a rush, Lord Frieza, but I have a treaty signing in about 10 minutes. I would ask you to stay, but I think that it would bore you."

"Quite right," he growled, also knowing a dismissal when he heard one. Rising, the miniature warlord nodded to the king. "I also have things to do." The Saiyan bowed again and Frieza motioned to his own guard on the way out to call his ship. /Starting with that slave woman./

**============================================**

"Aren't you finished yet woman?"

"O for the love of every god I've ever heard of," Bulma muttered as she stuck her head around the corner of her machine. "No you snobby, rich, persistent, spoiled, oblivious, delusional, stupid, bossy, tasteless, ugly, split-end-cactus-haired, stalky, dim, clueless, dense, obsessive, ignorant, pompous, self-righteous, self-gratifying, egotistical--"

"I see someone's been reading their dictionary," Vegeta said dryly, smirk dangerously close to a smile. "And a simple 'no' would have been sufficient."

"Your point?" She narrowed her eyes at him in a mockery of his usual scowl and crossed her arms in a decent impression of the Saiyan's common stance. "And since when have I taken the easy way out of things?"

He motioned to the shell of his new training center and smirked. "I want this done in three days."

Her lower jaw dropped to her knees. "You are SO not serious," she growled, shaking her head. "Not possible. After I build it, I have to make sure you're not just gonna blast the damn thing to Kingdom Come your first 30 seconds in there, program it, check for bugs, fix all those, recheck for bugs, fix THOSE, and all the while you're bitching at me to finish when I started yesterday. I DON'T THINK SO."

Vegeta was unimpressed. "How long will it take then, woman?"

Wiping her palms on her pants, she rolled her eyes back in her head as if the answer was written there. "Ballpark… about 6 months."

The prince snorted. "Unacceptable. Three days."

"Also unacceptable," she yelled, getting to her feet and brushing her hair back angrily. "If you want to train, then let me do this right.  And even if you're ordering me to do it, none of my work is half-assed."

Inwardly, Vegeta smirked. /If I didn't know better, I would think she was Saiyan./ It was a refreshing change to have someone stand up to him, though he would rather blast himself into atom-sized particles than admit it. "That's where you're wrong, woman. ALL of your work is half-assed."

"Then why don't you get someone else to build the damn thing and leave me the hell alone?"

"Because I enjoy antagonizing you," he replied bluntly.

"Talk about someone reading the dictionary," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I kinda figured THAT. But I also thought that if my inventions are so bad, why the hell are you interested? I DO remember you telling me that they don't benefit the Saiyan empire."

Vegeta shrugged carelessly. "They don't."

"So, only you, huh?" The murderous look he sent made her grin. "I thought that by now you would realize I'm not as stupid as you think I am. Which makes you stupider than I thought you were."

Surprisingly, the Saiyan let that one slide. Instead, he smirked and nodded toward the unfinished gravity chamber. "Get back to work woman."

"I can't with your royal ass in the room bitching about the fact that it's not finished despite the fact that you won't give me my plans and I have to do it from memory." Bulma crossed her arms and leaned against the machine. "Get the hell out." When the prince actually moved toward the door, Bulma started sliding off the side. "Where are you going?"

Smirking over his shoulder, Vegeta punched in the code. "To see Kakorrot's brat."

**============================================**

Bardock smirked as his grandson ducked under his fist but instead of aiming a blow toward his exposed stomach as even seasoned warriors would, Gohan grabbed the older Saiyan's fist and swung him into the wall, followed by a quick barrage of punches. /Not bad considering this is the first training he's had,/ Bardock thought to himself as he caught the half-breed's leg and propelled the boy toward the floor. Blasting up to an unusual power level, Gohan landed firmly on his feet and lashed out with his leg, tripping his grandfather.

Flipping backward to avoid the youngster's follow-up, Bardock nearly smiled. It wasn't often Saiyans lived long enough to see their offspring reach a high enough age to reproduce, and even less could see the generation after. From the reports, his son had been strong and now Kakorrot's hybrid brat had a power level almost as high as is father's had been when he died. /He'll be ready,/ the warrior thought smugly.

His thoughts were interrupted by Gohan's battle yell and a quick flash of ki from the other side of the room. Catching the overly-eager 5-year-old, he shook him. "Are you mad, brat? You're attacking the PRINCE."

"Let him," Vegeta said, amused, as he stepped fully into the room. "It will prepare him for his next training ground after the presentation." He gave a feral smile to Gohan, who only scowled in return. "I heard that your bastard nephew was going to send him off to Tirran for a few years or so to train. For once he had a good idea."

Bardock cocked an eyebrow but remained silent. Gohan growled and kicked back as hard as he could. It loosened the warrior's grip just enough for him to wiggle free and stood defiant in front of the prince. "You don't scare me," he said, crossing his arms.

The corner of Vegeta's mouth quirked upward just enough for the other Saiyan to notice and grabbed Bulma's adopted son by the front of his shirt and hefted him up to eye level. "I may not yet, brat," he said quietly, smirking. "But just wait until you're old enough to put some action behind your words." He dropped the half-breed and glanced to Bardock. "He's enough like his that gods-forsaken woman to know he'll challenge me one way or another. Try to train him out of that annoying habit."

"Of course, sire." Bardock smiled ever-so-slightly at his grandson as he got to his feet. The boy wasn't easy to scare or give up. He would make it on Tirran. "As soon as possible."

"I expect no less," Vegeta replied, narrowing his eyes at Gohan. /If I didn't know better, I would think he WAS related to the wench./ He mentally shook his head as thoughts of Bulma usually ended up driving him to distraction. "You better hope he knows what he's doing, brat. The presentation is only three days away."

"He has to know what he's doing. I know I'm stronger than most kids my age," Gohan replied, folding his arms across his chest, silently defying the prince.

"And where did you hear that?" Bardock was slightly amused and cracked part of a smile before swallowing it and replacing it with a typical Saiyan scowl.

"My mother told me."

Vegeta's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "When did that stupid woman come down here again? She could have gotten killed."

"I thought you didn't care," Gohan said slyly.

/That attitude HAS to go. And that wench has to stop visiting him before he picks up any more bad habits. One of her is enough in the universe./ He scowled and grabbed the little boy by the front of his shirt. "I only care until she finishes my training room, brat. After that she might want to be a little more careful since she will no longer be under the protection of myself of my guards. Tell her that." Dropping the kid, he turned to Bardock, who was obviously trying not to laugh. "And I thought that you were going to train him out of that."

"I can't with you in the room, sire," Bardock answered with a quick bow. "He'll want to attack you instead of listening to me. And it's not like he listens to me all that well to begin with."

"Tirran will fix that problem as well," Vegeta replied dismissively. "If he survives anyway." Before Gohan could comment, he narrowed his eyes at Bardock. "It's just as well. I have to finalize the preparations for the full moon festival." He smiled dangerously. "I convinced the king to put me in charge of the entertainment. Find me two of your weakest warriors and one who is exceptionally strong." Without waiting for further comment, the prince disappeared.

**============================================**

Nappa tried to glare down the doctor, but since he was nowhere near Vegeta's league it didn't go past the fact that the other Saiyan noticed his attempt. And his intimidation skills were pale in comparison to Bulma's. The older man smiled and sat on the table instead of leaning against it to make sure he wasn't hitting the soldier.

"I told you once, and I'll tell you again, I'm not letting him out of that tank until my orders say to." He smiled again at the warrior's obvious frustration. "Though I think I could leave you alone for a few minutes while I go back to check on some other patients."

Nappa raised an eyebrow, then his eyes widened as the meaning of the Saiyan's words penetrated his thick bald skull. He nodded, one corner of his mouth curved upward in a half-smirk. "Yeah, you could. I'll be fine."

"Don't break anything while I'm gone," he advised, slipping down off the other side of the table.

"What kind of idiot do you think I am?" Nappa growled, then narrowed his eyes seconds after he asked it. "Don't say a word."

The other man shrugged. "A word." He grinned and turned his back on the warrior, picking up his clipboard as he went by. The soldier rolled his eyes and turned back to the regeneration tanks.

Walking down the row until he found the one where his partner was being held, he looked over the stats on the screen next to the tank, he blinked in surprise. "Only 30%, huh? What the hell does Zucco(¹) think he's doing?" Nappa tapped the button that started draining the fluid and stepped back.

Turles didn't look much better than he did before he went in. The bruises were gone, but it was evident someone deliberately beat the hell out of him. The younger warrior opened his eyes as the water level dipped just under his knees. He tapped on the glass and ripped the mask off without waiting for Nappa's clearance. /Just goes to show how many times he's been in there,/ Nappa thought dryly. /He could probably tell when it's safe to come out in his sleep./

Turles shook his hair out of his eyes with a scowl and stepped out of the tank. Looking over himself, he shook his head with a growl. "Look at me! By the gods I look just as bad as I did yesterday!"

"Turles, you went in there almost a week ago," Nappa informed him, crossing his arms darkly.

The other Saiyan's eyes nearly dropped out of his head. "But… how… why… I…" He groaned and put a hand to his head. Looking at his friend, he scowled. "So why am I out now?"

"Because Zucco's in the back and I wanted to talk to you," Nappa replied simply. He narrowed his eyes. "Why were you in there for a week?"

Turles glared at him. "Considering I had no idea I'd been in there more than 24 hours, forgive me for not knowing," he growled sarcastically.

"Not standard days," Nappa muttered, rolling his eyes. "I mean regular days. Planet days."

At that the younger man had to lean against the side of the tank. "That means we only have… we dock tomorrow!" He sagged even more and shook his head. "And I look like THIS." He looked up and grinned. "I think I'll kill ol' Zucco for this."

"Don't bother, it wasn't his choice," Nappa said thoughtfully. "The prince ordered you to be kept like this. Gods only know why."

"Do you think he was planning on letting me out tomorrow night?"

"How am I supposed to know? Probably." He crossed his arms, scowling. "We ARE talking about Vegeta's mindset here."

Turles chuckled. "You're right."

He was about to continue when Zucco's voice floated out to them. "All right, I think I'm done here, but let me go check my chart one more time."

Nappa nodded to his partner. "That would be your cue." He motioned toward the tank grandly with one hand, scowling.

"So what happens if Zucco sees me out of my room?" he asked with a grin.

"He'll make sure you stay grounded," Nappa muttered, shoving Turles back. When the Saiyan growled, he tapped the button that sent the water rushing in plus added enough of the healing solution to get him up to

50% healed by the next day. Nappa grinned at the murderous look Turles sent him before the sedatives started to take over. "See you at the festival," he said cheerfully.

Zucco entered the room, head buried in his notes. When Nappa cleared his throat, he looked up with a smile. "And I see that everything is still in one piece. Would you like a treat for that?"

The warrior snorted. "I don't see why I spend my time around here anyway."

"Well, what did you come for?" Zucco put his paperwork aside and stuck the pencil behind his ear.

"Ah… here." Digging in his armor, he was surprised he remembered that there had actually been a reason for his visit. "Something from the woman."

"O, yes, Bulma." He looked down at the paper and grinned even wider. "Fantastic. Now I might figure out how to work those damn things."

"I'm not even going to ask."

Zucco shrugged indifferently. "Fine with me. If you don't have any other business here, get out of my infirmary. I have work to do and you're not helping me do it."

"Gladly," Nappa grunted, shaking his head. "Next time she's delivering this herself. I'm an Elite warrior, not a freaking messenger boy."

As the door hissed closed behind him, Zucco peered at the stats next to Turles' tank. With a shake of his head, he left the changed amounts of solution as they were. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

_(¹)Zucco -- zucchini, just in case you were wondering_

**============================================**

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow at Bulma's hesitation. His face grew even more intense as he tried to figure out why she wasn't happy to find out that Turles was going to be executed in traditional Saiyan style. /Stupid woman,/ he thought to himself with an inner roll of the eyes. /She can't even decide on her emotions./ Bulma glanced at him and he scowled. There wasn't much room for the prince to talk on that subject since the scientist kept him on his toes at all times, and most of that time was spent confusing the hell out of him.

"Well?" he demanded, crossing his arms in his usual stance and leaning against the wall casually.

"Well WHAT?"

"Do you want the bastard dead or not?" Vegeta almost exploded in exasperation. "What has this conversation been about for the past 10 minutes?"

She smirked at him though without her usual attitude. "I don't know. I've been tuning you out for the past 20." Before the Saiyan could blow a gasket she jumped up on the table and sat cross-legged. "I don't know to tell you the truth."

"Well THAT would be a first," he muttered, cocking his head slightly to the right. "Go on."

"Well…" Bulma closed her eyes to try and find the words to explain her slightly twisted morals. "There's one part of me that's saying 'Die bastard DIE and rot in the 19th pit of hell while you're at it' and the other part is going 'Well, MAYBE he deserves a second chance and we should give it to him.' Can't he just get life in jail or something?"

"In what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. And it probably doesn't matter what I say because you've already gotten it into your thick head to knock the guy off." Bulma grinned when she saw the flash of surprise in the prince's eyes. "Thought so. So why do you care?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Tradition."

"Ah, so Daddy told you to ask me."

"It is required to ask the victim to decide the fate of the accused," he recited as if saying it for the thousandth time. "However in this case it's meaningless because he will die regardless of your decision. The king has nothing to do with this transaction."

"Indirectly he does, but I'm not getting into that now," Bulma muttered, leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees and cup her chin in her hands. "Any other useless information you feel like tossing my way?"

"You are required by law to be at the execution," he offered with a smirk. Bulma went slightly green. "What now, woman?"

"Exactly HOW is he executed?" she asked carefully.

"He will fight against three transformed warriors one at a time until he dies," Vegeta replied simply.

Bulma winced and drew back. "Can't you just castrate the bastard and send him on his merry way?"

The Saiyan's brow furrowed in though. "Castrate?"

She looked at him in open astonishment. "You are SO behind the times," she muttered, then spread her hands. "Chop his balls off."

The prince looked stricken. "Woman… how can you think such a thing? What a barbaric act!"

She gave him a sidelong glare. "This coming from a guy who destroys planets for fun." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall and stretching her legs out so her ankles hung over the edge of the table. "Then again, all guys are the same."

Vegeta scowled, knowing where this conversation was headed, especially since they'd already had three just like it. Instead of rising to the bait, he growled. Bulma smiled sweetly and winked. Before she could comment on her victory, he spoke. "You will testify just before the festival."

In the time it took him to blink, Bulma went from cocky to white-as-a-ghost terrified. "Testify to WHAT?"

Amazed at the sudden change in mood, he proceeded with a bit of confusion. "To his crimes against you and anything else that you know of."

The first thing Bulma thought of was that she wanted her mother. Then she wanted to squeak, but had too much control over herself to do so. "You're kidding, right?" she demanded in a voice rock steady for what she was feeling. She glared at him darkly. "Knowing you, every Saiyan in a position of power will be there to see me break down. Not happening." Chi Chi's death haunted her daily, but until Gohan was old enough to understand, that was her business alone.

He rolled his eyes. "Woman, WHAT is so difficult--" He cut himself off when he noticed she was no longer paying attention. She was back to sitting Indian-style with her hands buried in her pant legs, holding on for dear life. Her head was down, blue hair hiding her expression from the prince's view.

/By the gods, she's afraid./ The realization left him stumped and not liking it. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he scowled. /So what else did the asshole do leave her in this state?/ Vegeta caught himself there and felt like banging his head against the wall to clear it. Thinking about why Bulma did things always left him confused and pissed-off. /She's a slave,/ he reminded himself. /I should care nothing about her well-being./

Vegeta shook his head and pushed off from the wall. "You have one day to pull yourself together, woman. I suggest you do it." As he turned to leave, her reaction still irked him. /Maybe the logs will have some information on this./ With that in mind, he set off to find a tech. He had a feeling that Bulma wasn't getting around to his gravity machine.

**============================================**

He grinned in childish delight as his elbows held him up on the circular windowsill, head cocked slightly to the side and his feet kicking in a simple rhythm against the wall. "Wow," was all he could say as the red planet came into view. "It looks like home," he whispered, one finger outlining the swirls of lighter red indicating clouds. He turned to look over his shoulder at the warrior behind him. "What's it like down there?"

Bardock grunted, but Gohan only turned to sit where his arms had been and propped his chin in his hands, elbows on his crossed legs. "It's a mostly desert planet," he said dully, as if reciting from memory something he'd said every day his entire life. "On the far side, nearest to the sun is where the forests are, and there are only about three. At the north and south poles of the planet are glaciers where we get our water, channeled underground in a very complex system that cleans and purifies as it goes along. Unlike your planet, Vegetasei does not have different languages, merely different dialects as any large area does.

There are no towns, only large cities and near the forests are farmers. The palace of Vegetasei is the capital and political headquarters. Governments are run by the king's appointed soldiers within the cities and are also in charge of overseeing the amount of water that gets to the farmers." He cut himself off and glared at his grandson. "Anything else you want to know?"

"That's more than I expected," the little boy admitted, grinning again. "I never heard you talk so much at one time."

/Neither have I,/ he thought, amazed. He rarely spoke so much to his crew, and even his best friend had to pry comments out of him. Unless it was before or during a battle, of course. He shrugged. "Don't usually

have anything to say, kid." Gohan smiled charmingly at his grandfather, knowing that was as close to affection as the Saiyan would get. "So why do you talk so much?"

The half-breed blinked in surprise. This was the first time the older man had wanted to carry on a conversation. "Are you worried about me?"

Bardock's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Now why the hell are you thinking that?"

Gohan shrugged innocently. "When Mama got worried she talked a lot."

"She talks a lot anyway," Bardock muttered, then crossed his arms, glaring at the boy. "No, I am not worried about you. I'm more worried about what the other brats will look like after you're through with them." He smirked, almost looking proud of his grandson. "I'm worried the king won't be able to use them. And you didn't answer my question."

"Uh…" The little Saiyan put an arm behind his head in a very Goku-like fashion and blushed. "What was it again?"

"You better learn how to remember shit, kid. Otherwise you're better off as a warrior trying to get a few free favors from Getan(¹)." Gohan gave him a confused look and he scowled. "And you better learn our gods." He leaned against the wall and scowled, then repeated his earlier question.

"I dunno. I like to. Mama and Papa used to yell at each other all the time. It was funny though." He giggled and kicked his feet happily. "Mama had a frying pan and she would chase Papa all over the yard with it."

"Your mother had that much power over your father?" Bardock scoffed. "A Saiyan that weak is not worthy to be called a Saiyan at all."

"My dad was the strongest fighter on Earth!" Gohan protested angrily, clenching his small fists.

"Well if your father was so powerful then how was he defeated?" Bardock demanded smugly. "I can tell you one thing kid, it wasn't because of Riccoli(²)."

"Riccoli?" Gohan inquired, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, kid, Riccoli. You never heard of him before?" The 5-year-old shook his head and the warrior rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to your mother and find out what you call it on Earth. Honestly, you better get up with the times before you leave." Then his eyes narrowed. "And why do you keep avoiding questions? Learn to give a straight answer before you get to Tirran, brat. Your Commander won't like repeating himself." He added an extra growl before asking the question again.

"I really don't know," the hybrid admitted, scratching his head. "I just know that some guy with big hair came and tried to con Papa into coming to outer space and fighting with him, and when he said no, took me and threw me in his ship." Gohan smiled when he remembered the Saiyan pod. "If I wasn't afraid I would take off and never come back I would've played with the buttons." He shook his head to clear it and get himself back on track. "Anyway, I heard Papa yelling and then I woke up at home."

The Saiyan snorted and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Pitiful display." Then suddenly his eyes widened the tiniest bit as the half-breed continued to talk. /My sons killed each other./ He inwardly groaned at their stupidity and looked over the boy in front of him. /At least one of my bloodline inherited intelligence./

He was about to question his grandson when the door to his room slammed open. Gohan's life story came to a stumbling halt as Nappa appeared, framed in the doorway before entering. Bardock started to rise angrily, but Nappa waved a hand, a motion indicating he would only be a moment.

"What's the brat doing here?" he asked, smirking at the hybrid. The 5-year-old raised his chin defiantly and the older Saiyan chuckled. "I think Tirran will be good for him."

"Do what you came to do and leave," Bardock replied icily, rising so he wasn't more than two feet shorter than the bald man.

Nappa snorted and turned to the other warrior. "The prince sent me to tell you that you can bring the brat to the 'trial' tomorrow."

"She's actually going to testify?" the older man demanded with some measure of disbelief.

The bigger Saiyan smirked, rubbing one end of his moustache with his thumb. "Prince Vegeta made it crystal clear that she was to attend, testify, and be happy about it. Brought her to tears, I heard." He dropped his smug expression. "Turles is normally insane, but to do something that would make a woman like her cry… it almost scares me."

Bardock smirked and placed a hand on his powering-up grandson's head. "You like her, don't you?" Nappa looked astonished, enraged, and even sputtered trying to deny it, but the older Saiyan chuckled. "It's obvious from the way you protect her. I think you've found yourself a friend."

"Turles is my friend. Bulma is an annoyance," he growled, clenching his fist and waving it under his companion's nose.

Bardock's black eyes flashed triumphantly. "Bulma is it now?" he inquired in an amused tone, smirking. "Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps smitten is the better word."

Nappa roared his injustice to the ship before turning a previously unexplored shade of red and growling in a language that sounded remotely like Saiyan but that Gohan couldn't make heads or tails of. He put one arm behind his head in confusion as Bardock chuckled. "Southerners."

"What just happened?" he asked timidly.

"Nothing kid. Just embarrassing the living daylights out of him for being so damn stubborn." He settled onto the bed and kicked off his boots before stretching out leisurely. "He's the closest thing to a friend your mother has on this ship and he refuses to admit she's his friend too. Most Saiyans are like that. They see friendship as a weakness."

Gohan slid off the windowsill and leaned against the wall, tail wrapped around his waist. "Is it?"

Bardock looked at him, a little surprised by the question. /He'll keep his first Commander on his toes, that's for sure./ He folded his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. "I really don't know."

There was a long silence, and just as Bardock allowed his eyes to close and body to relax, Gohan piped up, "Could I sleep with you?"

The soldier's mind instantly went to the double meaning and stared at his grandson in shock. Then he strictly reprimanded himself that the boy was only that: a 5-year-old. He sighed and moved over so there was enough room for the half-breed and rolled onto his side away from him.

Gohan grinned and slid onto the bed, snuggling into the semi-warm blankets. Then he sat up and wrapped his arms around his grandfather's neck. Bardock froze and was about to retaliate when the hybrid kissed his temple and retreated to his own side of the bed.

"What the hell was that for?" the warrior demanded, sitting up and looking at the wide-eyed kid.

"Mama always said that's how you show someone affection," he returned, propping himself up on one elbow. "Don't you know?"

"Don't you know not to surprise a warrior Saiyan, brat?" he snapped, shaking his upper body to get rid of the feeling left. "A stunt like that could very well get you killed. Don't let it happen again!" He grunted and faced the wall again, tail twitching. /That kid is too affectionate for his own good./

Gohan sighed unhappily and dropped his chin onto his crossed arms. "Good night," he said softly and rolled over, closing his eyes. He had a feeling it would be a long night.

_(¹)Getan-- god of land/vegetation; Vegeta's nic is often Geta, Ithink you can figure out where this came from. i hope, anyway._

_(²)Riccoli-- from broccoli; boogeyman_

**============================================**

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know? All I know is that as soon as I try to roll out of bed this morning, I go down and STAY down. Now, really, I thought I was just extremely tired, but to find out that they've been raising the gravity just PISSES ME OFF! The LEAST they could've done was TOLD me your freaking gravity is higher!"

Zucco smiled gently and pressed his palms into Bulma's shoulders, forcing her back a step so he could have room to breathe without rustling her hair. "Bulma, all you have to do is walk on the blue squares. They have a lower gravity suited for those picked up on other planets."

Growling, the scientist grabbed the front of the doctor's coat and pulled herself toward him since he wasn't about to move. "Are you telling me I CRAWLED here because I thought I was sick for no Kami-damned reason?!"

"Yes."

She went off into a wide array of curses that put even the prince to shame. Zucco shook his head as she stormed around the room shouting for everyone to hear and not being able to understand a word of it. Finally she paused to take a breath, and the Saiyan seized the opportunity to slap his hand over her mouth. Bulma's hands clawed at his arm as he pulled her against him, then lifted her and laid her on a table in an effort of restraint.

"Are you done yet?" he inquired when she made no further noise. She shook her head angrily and he sighed, switching hands and looking at the slightly abraded skin. "Did you just BITE me?" Bulma nodded and Zucco removed his palm. "Are you INSANE?"

Working her jaw slightly, she looked up at him and swung her legs over the side of the table. "No, why?"

"Because biting a Saiyan is an offer, Bulma." His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head as if searching for something. She squirmed as he tapped the side of her neck. "I thought you had a mate."

"A WHAT?"

"A mate," he replied simply, crossing his arms. "I belive the human phrase is 'significant other' or some nonsense like that."

"A husband?" She ran through the list of things he could be talking about and husband was the closest match. /Mate. How primitive./

"Whatever you call it. He was a Saiyan, wasn't he?" Bulma was now uncomfortably confused and nodded slowly. "Then why didn't he claim you?"

"What does this have to do with an offer?" she growled, pushing his hand away.

"If you are unclaimed and bite a Saiyan, you're basically saying, 'Take me, I'm yours.' To claim a mate you bite or get bitten about here." He traced a line on her neck almost from jaw to collarbone. "If you have a

Saiyan mate, why weren't you claimed? It's first instinct."

/Yeah, well Goku's first instinct is to run from women with bad tempers and frying pans,/ Bulma thought dryly. "When he was a little boy he had a serious head injury that cleared out almost everything Saiyan about him. He still liked to fight and he had a tail, but that was it. He's human."

Zucco shook his head slowly. "This could be a problem then. Your only defense is your teeth."

"And nails," Bulma added, flexing her fingers dangerously. "Ask Turles."

"I would, but he's a bit unconscious so I think he's lacking a comment," Zucco answered.

Suddenly Bulma grabbed his arm. "So, what are YOU going to do?"

"About what?"

"About me biting you." She looked almost afraid and the doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I have a mate, and I won't take a mistress. Besides, you belong to someone already. I couldn't take you if I wanted to."

Had she been on Earth, she would have made some snide comment about not being good enough for the bastard, but here she was grateful for Zucco's strange sense of honor. "Well, as long as I'm fine I better go."

"Remember, the blue squares. They should lead all over the ship," he said, already preoccupied. He waited until the doors hissed shut before sighing. "I hope she hasn't bitten anybody."

**============================================**

"Woman, you are starting to really irritate me," Vegeta growled, crossing his arms, not noticing his tail lashing to and fro in annoyance. "This is not a problem. You get off the ship, go to the palace, find your quarters and get ready to testify."

"And the entire time I'm turning into a pancake because the gravity of your planet is 10 times higher than mine. Hear me? TEN FREAKING TIMES! Even an IDIOT like you should be able to do the math." From the look on his face, it was obvious he'd never thought about the fact that the different planets had different gravities.

"Deal with it, woman. I don't care how." The prince smirked to himself. /I'll see how long it is before she figures out that there are low-gravity tiles going to and inside the palace./

He turned to leave, only to find Bulma attached to his tail and yanking back on it. Before he could say anything, she poked her finger into the center of his chest and scowled. "Let me spell this out for you, pal, because you don't seem to get it! One Bulma plus 10 times normal gravity equals NO TECH! Which ALSO equals, no new training room. Are you getting this yet?"

Vegeta yanked the extra appendage out of her hand and wrapped it firmly around his waist. /She's stronger than I thought,/ he observed with a smirk. He grabbed the wrist of the hand she was poking him with and came close to a smile. "Are YOU getting this, woman? I want you off the ship and into the palace when we land. Find a way."

"You know, for every time you're ignorant, I should slow down the programming to your training room a day. You'll be up to 6 months in no time."

The prince smirked and drew her closer, tail moving from his waist to hers. "You know I could kill you now, woman."

"No you couldn't," Bulma argued. She suddenly found herself flat on her back with Vegeta's lit palm brushing her bangs. She swallowed once and grinned. "O, how impressive. It glows, big deal. Move on."

"If I'm this close, woman," Vegeta said, inching his hand nearer until it almost rested on her forehead, "then why can't I kill you?"

"Because you need me," she replied simply. "No one else knows how to build anything you want or invent something halfway useful."

The Saiyan snorted and moved his hand so he had one arm on either side of her head. Bulma went stiff as his weight shifted and she realized just how much he'd been covering her. Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he saw the small flash of fear fly through her eyes before it was hidden by defiance.

After a few more moments of silence, Bulma had to restrain herself from squirming. "Do you mind?"

"No."

"Yeah, well *I* do! I have work to do and a life to save so get the fuck off me!"

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow and Bulma scowled. "Whose?"

"Whose WHAT?"

"Whose life do you have to save?"

"MINE, asshole! Since you're not going to help, I have to figure something out myself." She mentally growled and studied the prince's balance. /Well it looks like my ki generator is going to be put on hold until I can figure out a way to either rip off every blue tile in the ship or make my own./ Narrowing her eyes, Bulma noticed that Vegeta was supporting too much weight on his arms. /I guess living around fighters my entire life was more useful than I thought./

The Saiyan suddenly felt wary when Bulma flashed him a grin. The next moment, he was falling to the side. He had no idea how she'd gotten him off-balance, but he was slightly impressed. Instead of doing the expected thing and rolling away from him, she turned toward and over him. They stood at about the same time, but now Vegeta was no longer between Bulma and the door.

Growling, the prince clenched his fist. "How did you do that, woman?"

Bulma blew on her knuckles then polished them on her shirt, grinning. "It was actually quite easy. I kicked your feet out from under you and pushed you over."

Vegeta went off ranting in Saiyan while Bulma rolled her eyes and slipped out the door. She had less than five hours to find a way to keep herself from getting killed one step off the ship, and by Kami she was going to do it.

**============================================**

"Zucco, Lab 1. Now!" The doctor looked up and saw a technical slave bent over the nearest table and breathing hard. It looked like he'd run from the labs, which were clear across the ship for some unintelligent reason. The Saiyan looked puzzled but grabbed an ice pack and a few rolls of gauze.

"Who?" he demanded, taking the exhausted slave with him.

He stumbled through a few names as he tried to keep up with Zucco. Finally he grabbed the older man's arm and held on. "It's Bulma!" The Saiyan's pace increased almost to a run, then he moved into lighter gravity and moved at full speed toward the science wing. The poor tech just laid in the middle of the floor and gaped.

Zucco almost ran over Vegeta coming out of an unseen door and had to slam himself against the wall to keep from knocking the prince to the floor. Unfortunately, that killed his speed and left a dent in the wall.

Vegeta arched an eyebrow at the stunned doctor and crossed his arms, waiting until the older man could say something coherent.

"I'm sorry my prince," Zucco said, regaining his balance and quickly bowing. "I was just on my way to the labs to check on a patient, so if you will excuse me…"

Vegeta waited until he was almost out of earshot before inquiring, "Who?"

"Bulma!" the other Saiyan shouted over his shoulder before moving back onto the blue tiles and took off through one wall and out the one behind it. Vegeta looked startled for a split second then shook his head.

/That woman is going to get herself and everyone around her killed,/  the prince thought as he started after Zucco. Then he smirked. /But that's what makes it interesting./

When he arrived, Bulma was laying on the floor while Zucco knelt at her side, muttering under his breath. "You can't keep doing this. Humans cannot go 30 hours or more without sleep."

"I just did it," Bulma grunted back and scowled.

"Yes, and came close to giving yourself a concussion several times," Zucco growled, running a thumb over the bruises on her forehead. "In this state you can't walk a straight line let alone work. And I FORBID you to climb that ladder again."

Vegeta grunted and got the attention of everyone save Bulma, who was speaking again. "Now you sound like Vegeta," she muttered. "And let me tell you, if you keep doing that I'm going to kill you for it. I've never met such a big prick in my life. He's a cute prick, I'll admit that, but a prick nonetheless. And did I just say he was CUTE?" She tried to sit up and found the doctor's hand in its usual position against her shoulder.

"Yes, you did," Zucco answered, amusement dancing in his eyes. In the back of the room, the prince quirked one corner of his mouth upward. /So she finds me attractive,/ he thought with a smirk. /Interesting./

"Don't mind me," Bulma continued. "When I go for more than 26 hours the pause button between my mouth and my brain turns off."

"It wasn't there to begin with," Vegeta muttered, startling several techs. "Back to work!"

"What the hell…" Bulma wondered, about to sit up when Zucco's hand came down across the back of her head. She slumped, unconscious in his arms.

Lowering the scientist to the floor, he sighed. Looking over his shoulder, the Saiyan nodded. "Sire, she should wake up about 30 minutes before the trial."

"As long as she's there on time. That will be YOUR responsibility," Vegeta ordered, narrowing his eyes. "It seems you've taken quite a liking to her."

Zucco shrugged and cradled the human woman in his arms as he rose. "It's hard not to, sire. And she's been a world of help around not only the labs but in the medical wing as well. You're lucky to have found her. She's very valuable."

Vegeta snorted. "All she is to me is a pain in the ass." He growled inwardly. /And a distraction./

Zucco rolled his eyes and in doing so caught sight of a red line down the prince's neck. Cocking his head, the older Saiyan narrowed his eyes to look at it better. "Sire, are you all right?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Zucco shifted Bulma and ran a finger down his own neck to indicate the mark on Vegeta's. The younger man put a hand there curiously, then scowled. "I don't remember exactly. It's only a scar."

Apparently Vegeta had never really looked at the old wound because Zucco could clearly see that it was a bite mark. He bowed to the prince and walked toward his office, puzzled. /It obviously isn't Saiyan because the prince would never mate with a man, which means that it could only be one of the slaves. But who could get close enough?/ Suddenly the day that Bulma and Vegeta had been brought before the enraged king for some unknown reason came to mind and the Saiyan stopped dead in his tracks. He looked down at the sleeping Bulma and slowly shook his head. /I hope you know what you're doing./

**============================================**

The Saiyan doctor glanced over his shoulder as the sheets rustled, the sound alerting him to the patient's irritated stir. Aqua hair fanned out on the pillow, she looked more like a sleeping angel than a she-devil banshee. Zucco smiled to himself and returned partial attention to his documents. Bulma needed her sleep, especially after the effort it took to get her off the ship. She'd been unconscious for less than 10 minutes before she started raising Cain on the Saiyans.

Bulma attempted to toss and turn in her bed but found self strapped down with restraints that could probably hold against even Vegeta's strength. /Of course,/ she thought bitterly, testing the straps, /I'm on a planet full of bloodthirsty, rampaging were-monkeys. EVERYTHING is exaggerated./

Zucco smiled at his patient and shuffled the papers before peeling the royal seal off one that he'd missed. Meanwhile, the blue-haired beauty was trying to either get back to sleep or forget the creepy look on the prince's face she'd seen before passing out from sleep deprivation. It had been amused, as always, but what looked like a flash of confusion and even concern had flashed through his eyes in the split second she'd kept her eyes open. /I can't believe I'm thinking this,/ Bulma growled to herself. /I'm thinking that the bastard Saiyan prince is cute when he looks like that. Kami, why me? Why do you hate me?/

Finally the scientist grunted and collapsed firmly on the bed. "ZUCCO!" she howled angrily. The Saiyan looked up with a grin at the furious glare of the human woman. "Get me out of this!"

"We didn't know how long you would be out," he explained as a purple button was pushed and the traps vanished. Bulma looked on with scientific intrigue just as the doctor went back to reading the letter from the king. "It was only to keep you from going anywhere."

"Then why is she out?" Both occupants turned to see Vegeta standing against the wall waiting for either person to notice him. Strolling into the full light, Zucco's eyes landed on his scar once again and mentally shook his head. /It's a good thing he doesn't remember that./

"Because I have to take a piss," Bulma growled, storming off in the direction of the bathroom. For once, Vegeta let her go, sniffing the air carefully. /But… it's been less than 30 standard days since the last time she was in heat. She shouldn't be in her next cycle already./ From the facilities came a sudden shouting in what the two men could only guess was her native languages, and most likely were swears.

Zucco sensed the prince's confusion and smiled. "Sire, she was explaining to me that every 28 to 31 standard days human females go into heat for 3 to 7 days at a time."

Vegeta mentally groaned, tail whipping around so fast it cracked. "Then we have another obstacle tonight. Every male there is going to go crazy because of the scent she's giving off." Zucco slowly absorbed this information and swallowed. Very few women attended a soldier's trial, and even fewer men had enough self-control to keep from tracing the scent given off by Bulma.

"Then we must find the strongest female guards we have, sire," Zucco concluded. "Unless you want the task of protecting her yourself."

Vegeta smirked ferally. "I think I will be the one to protect her. It could get interesting."

Both Saiyans glanced toward the bathroom and the doctor sighed. "As soon as she gets out of there."

**============================================**

When she was practically thrown into the room that looked like it was in the same vicinity of the royalty's chambers, Bulma growled and turned to snap at the woman. Then she found the smaller guard's elbow dug firmly into the unarmored stomach of a Saiyan that nearly put Nappa to shame in bulk and the man doubled over, wheezing. As seen many times with Goku, the warrioress removed her arm and the man fell onto his knees before the other woman's chop rendered him unconscious.

Bulma whistled appreciatively. "Damn. One of these days I'm gonna learn how to do that."

Both relaxed out of their last pose and simultaneously brought their fists together. The taller bowed, swiftly mimicked by her probably younger partner. "I am Nea(¹), senior guard of the western sector."

"And I am Orrata(²)," the other Saiyan said as she straightened.

"Bulma," the human woman said with a grin, leaning against the doorjamb. "Senior pain in the prince's ass." Both guards' lips twitched but before either could comment, Bulma continued. "And now that we're past all the formalities, I'd like to know why you're being so respectful to a slave."

"It's obvious Prince Vegeta wants you taken care of," Orrata answered quickly. "He rarely calls for guards himself. If he holds you in such high regard then so shall we."

Bulma blew her bangs out of her face and sighed. "Do me a favor and DON'T. I didn't like it much at home and I sure as HELL don't like it here. Relax a little. It's not like I'm going to bite your head off."

"I'm afraid we can't," Nea replied bluntly. "Prince Vegeta doesn't want us to get TOO close to the slaves." Bulma bristled and was about to open her mouth when the guard continued. "I think you should rest now. A trial is long and tiring."

Bulma muttered something about not knowing what rest was, turning to face the inside of the room. "We'll be here if you need anything," Orrata said, the two women flanking the door as it closed.

Bulma growled and flopped down on the single bed, then looked at the wall and noticed a computer. A computer that was turned on and looking like it was ready to go. Cracking her knuckles one at a time, the scientist grinned. /Well, as long as I'm here…/

_(¹)Nea -- from bean. (i THINK that's a vegetable anyway)_

_(²)Orrata -- from carrot_


	4. Part 4: Developments

Part 4:

(all righty people, for those of you who are braindead, this is a flashback. raise your hand if you didn't know that when you saw the italics)  
  
_"Woman, what in the hell are you DOING?" Nappa demanded, crossing his arms as Bulma tinkered with a few bits of machinery and straightened, wiping her grease-and-various-other-fluid-covered hands on her pale khakis.  
  
"Making a bomb," she replied with a grin, tucking the wrench into her back pocket and pulling out a screwdriver from somewhere.  
  
Nappa snorted and leaned against the wall, watching the mechanical genius work her magic. "You constantly threaten to blow up the ship, woman. What makes you think I'll believe you this time?" She only shrugged and knelt, squinting as she dug the point into the screw and carefully tightened it. "You have two hours until docking, woman. Remember that."  
  
The scientist growled and stopped her work for a split second as she remembered what Vegeta had told her: _"You go straight from the trial to the king's chambers, woman."_ The prince had smirked wolfishly at the thought. /He doesn't care what happens to me./ Bulma thought angrily. /Maybe I should rig the gravity chamber…/  
  
"Yeah, yeah," was what she said out loud, waving a hand at the Saiyan. "Two hours is plenty of time."  
  
"Plenty of time for WHAT?" Nappa inquired suspiciously, obsidian eyes narrowed.  
  
"O chill out," Bulma muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I'm going to chuck this thing on the planet and kill every Saiyan I can find."_  
  
**~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~**  
  
_"Everything is going smoothly," Zucco said, crossing his arms as the big bulk that was Nappa loomed over him. "You can even see the docking bay from here. There is NOTHING to worry about." As if on cue, the alarm went off, every high-strung tech under the pressure of trying to get the ship to the surface with at least the king, the prince and most of the Elites intact jumping out of their skins.  
  
"NOTHING, huh?" Nappa growled at a sheepishly grinning Zucco before turning his attention to the techs. "Where is the origin?"  
  
"Lab 3," the doctor replied, scanning the stat screens as soon as the information popped up. "Bulma's in there," he said almost as an afterthought. Nappa's jaw tightened and the older Saiyan smiled. Despite everything the big warrior had done to deny his affection for the loud-mouthed human, it was more than obvious he felt like a protective older brother, bordering on father at times.  
  
"Move!" Nappa shouted at the lower-class soldiers, his death glare almost matching that of the prince's. He grabbed Zucco's arm and dragged him along as well._  
  
**~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~**  
  
_Vegeta growled as he ignored the infuriating noise demanding a code and merely ripped the door aside. "WOMAN!" he barked, seeing her jerk in surprise. Bulma totally ignored the furious prince as he stalked toward her, choosing to stare at the metallic box that sent up a high-pitched beep instead.  
  
/Shit, shit, SHIT!/ She thought frantically, fumbling like a novice with the wires and finally yanking out a green one. The commotion settled just as the prince's gloved hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around. "Ow! Get the hell off me!" she shouted at the glowering Saiyan, smacking his arm with her free hand. Vegeta only smirked and tightened his grip, turning to drag her off. Without thinking, Bulma's fist slammed down on top of the box, a blue light quickly changing to red to indicate the bomb was armed.  
  
"Woman, what the hell IS that thing?" Vegeta demanded, wincing away from the sudden racket that could injure his sensitive ears. In his anger, he wasn't holding back as much as he thought he did, which resulted in Bulma's constant whimpering. "Answer me!"  
  
She only grinned at him through her pain. "You're going down, asshole," she replied weakly.  
  
"Sire, it's a bomb!" Nappa shouted, leaning on the doorjamb, blood running down the side of his face. "She's already blown up the west sector."  
  
Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he calculated Bulma's plan. /She knew she was going to spend the rest of her short life as the king's pleasure slave,/ he thought quickly, looking over the still grinning scientist, /so she wanted to kill off as many Saiyans as possible before she died as well./ He had to admit that impressed him to a certain degree. /I didn't think the woman had enough courage to die like a Saiyan./ He smirked. /I'll have to prolong her life for this./  
  
"Sire, get out! That is strong enough to kill even you!" Nappa advised, moving toward the prince. Vegeta looked over his ex-trainer and now head bodyguard and nodded. Without thinking, he pulled Bulma closer to him and blew out the side wall. Nappa was shouting orders to the men closing in around the lab to stay out.   
  
_

_Just as the prince crossed to the next hallway, the bomb went off, throwing him off his feet. Vegeta glanced back at the site, feeling a twang of sorrow, his face betraying only a bit of his thoughts. He couldn't say he ever really liked the man, but he was a strong warrior, loyal and even halfway intelligent when the times called for it. The prince would recite the proper ritual for a warrior that died in service of the royal house, but now he glared down at an unconscious Bulma. Grunting, he hoisted her to his shoulder. He had bigger fish to fry._  
  
**============================================  
**  
Bulma sighed and sat back in her unsturdy chair, cocking her head to look at the picture of Yamcha again. She slowly traced a finger over the laminated surface, blue eyes narrowing. He hadn't been the most faithful man she could've asked for, but she had fallen for him, and fallen hard, believing he felt the same,. /One day I'll break that bastard in half for you,/ she silently vowed, turning her full attention back to the computer. A large ruckus outside her room made her rise and crack the door irritably.  
  
Already wide blue eyes grew to titanic proportions when she saw Orrata thrashing in the grasp of three Saiyan men, all of which who had taken substantial damage. Bulma was about to step into the fray when Nea rose from her half-kneeling position, hand over one side of her face. The warrior next to her grasped her elbow as she stood. The younger Saiyan jerked her arm away, removing her fingers from her cheek. Blood gushed down that side from a deep gouge over her left eye, a burn mark surrounding the injury. Orrata's eyes suddenly went blank and she purred softly, then growled and again attempted to throw the men off of her. Bulma wisely stepped back through her door and left it open only enough to see.  
  
"Let her go," Nea ordered, wiping the blood on her leg. The male warriors hesitated and she whipped her arm over her head, electricity sparkling around her fist. The scientist's eyes widened even more when she felt the power radiating from her guard. It was nearly as high as the king's. /I bet it's a good thing HE doesn't know that./  
  
The men backed away slowly, keeping an eye on their prisoner. Orrata fell forward into her friend's arms, purring again softly and winding her arms around the older woman's neck. Nea smiled gently and brushed her hair back as if she were a comforting older sister, saying something in a language Bulma couldn't make heads or tails of. It was something similar to Pig Latin but that was only speculation. Orrata nodded and laid her head on Nea's shoulder, eyes closed.  
  
"I have it under control," Nea snapped at the confused men. The four Saiyans, for their credit, stood their ground until Orrata flashed her fangs at them. With that wild look on her face, they all but ran. The older woman bopped her on the head. "That wasn't nice."  
  
"They were interrupting," Orrata explained, grinning.  
  
Bulma pushed her door the rest of the way open, pushing her jaw up as she did so. "What was THAT about?" she demanded, scratching the back of her head. /It was certainly… interesting./  
  
"She's going into her first heat," Nea explained, rubbing the back of her friend to keep her calm. /Gods only know what she'll do if she gets riled up./  
  
"And this is… bad," Bulma said slowly, watching the younger Saiyan's tail swing back and forth contentedly.  
  
"For the next 9 days the only things she'll want to do is eat, sleep, and mate," Nea continued, watching Orrata's face for any sign of danger. The other woman seemed to be almost asleep.  
  
"Hmph. Sounds like men on a regular basis."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
"What's with the clowns then?" Bulma motioned toward the absent warriors and Nea blinked, then smirked ferally.  
  
"The only ones safe around a Saiyan going into heat for the first time are his or her chosen closest of kin and his or her mate."  
  
"Guys go 'into heat' too? No wonder Vegeta's so bastardy. He must have PMS 24-7." Then the full impact finally hit her. Those two were definitely NOT siblings, mother-daughter, or aunt's second niece's first cousin's husband's best friend's boyfriend's mother-in-law's granddaughter's stepson's distant relative twice removed. Which left… "So, who's her mate?"  
  
Orrata locked eyes with the alien scientist. "Me."  
  
**============================================**  
  
The darkness was almost overwhelming. The Saiyan's first instinct was to start blasting in hopes of getting out of this hellhole of black. Somehow he restrained himself and grunted as he sat up. Gohan's eyes snapped open and he tensed at the deep-sounding voice. He felt strangely disoriented, like his body didn't belong to him. Clenching his fist, he felt the raw power, power he hadn't had an hour before, flow through his veins. /What the hell is HAPPENING to me?/ He couldn't seem to really feel the floor under him, or a replica of his father's training clothes against his skin, or even the slight breeze that rustled his hair.  
  
"This is ridiculous," he growled, a faint echo sounding in his ears. "Am I dreaming or what?" His voice was nowhere near his normal boyish squeak. Instead it was more toward a man of twenty. /I wish I could at least SEE!/ he thought desperately, straining to catch any glimpse of light at all. He felt like he was drowning.  
  
Before his question could be answered, his eyes opened a second time, and now he was flat on his back under a light with a monster like none he'd seen before smirking down at him. Straps intertwined around his torso, pinning every part of his body snugly against the ground. The intense power he'd felt only a moment ago had been ripped away and replaced with a weak human body that trembled with the strain of breathing. His dark eyes narrowed, vision dulled, nearly blind and deaf, at the alien. The thing spread its top two arms wide, throwing a green dust over him.  
  
"Welcome to Tirran, boy."  
  
**============================================**  
  
Vegeta wasn't angry. He was far from being angry. For this he was somewhere between volcanic and nuclear. The only thing stopping him from going straight out to Nea's cabin and ripping off her mate's head and hanging it on his wall was because he was still trying to figure out if Bulma was alive or not. His tail made the air crack as it flew behind him, black eyes narrowed almost to slits, almost as much at himself as at the palace medics who wouldn't let Zucco in to work on Bulma. The prince stopped himself as he realized he'd mentally called her by name.  
  
Shaking his head roughly, his whipped his tail back again before letting it fly in the other direction. /I don't need that wench,/ he reasoned. /I have a hundred techs, all at my command./ He scowled and turned back to face the wall, not allowing himself to pace. Walking in circles never did any good so he'd never gotten into the habit. Focusing on the double doors, he growled once more.  
  
Zucco glanced at his prince out of the corner of his eye worriedly. Vegeta had never been this antsy before in his life. /She sure is a powerful influence,/ he thought. The doctor sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. One hand reached into his coat pocket and tapped a blue button on what looked much like Bulma's dragonball radar. His eyes widened as he tilted it in the direction of the scientist's room. "Sire?"  
  
"Yes," he snapped, curling his tail around his waist elegantly. "Will it save her?"  
  
"You've gotten attached," Zucco accused even as he punched in the code to the hospital wing. Usually he wouldn't have dared to make such a comment, but at this time he was the only one who knew enough about Bulma to secure her safety.  
  
"She is the best technician I have," the prince admitted sternly. "I want her alive at any cost." Zucco nodded and Vegeta grabbed his arm. "ANY cost." The doctor swallowed, suddenly understanding the magnitude of the other Saiyans words. He was willing to sacrifice his pride, and possibly his birthright, for the human woman. /O, damn./ Vegeta pushed him through the half-open doors. "I will find you. Get to her."  
  
Zucco shot down the hallway and skidded through the next set of doors, and finally turned a sharp corner into a seldom-used sector of the wing. Narrowing his eyes in the dim light, he walked forward slowly. He knew the others had put her back here, but exactly what room was a mystery. It would take him hours to search the entire sector, and Bulma didn't have that kind of time available. Gritting his teeth, the Saiyan let his tail swing free to snap back and forth in worry and annoyance.  
  
The doctor closed his eyes, breathing deeply and holding it to focus on his ears and nose. A raspy sound echoed down the corridor, and the tangy scent of blood was easy to follow. Zucco followed the trail, brow furrowing as he strained to hear anything else. Finally he pinpointed the room and took off at a run. Grabbing the doorjamb of Bulma's room, he shoved back into the chamber and his jaw dropped. The scientist was draped over a cot, wounds untreated. Even the blankets were filthy from a patient before her.   
"Outrageous," he hissed, making his way toward the still form. He easily slipped a black band over her head and tightened it, taking a wire from the wall and placing it in the tube sticking out of the side. A display board lit up behind her as he moved to bring his tools nearer. He studied the red numbers closely as he poured alcohol into a pan, setting each pointy object in a certain order inside. Finally he pulled a cloth from the cabinet and placed it under Bulma, one small piece at a time. It wasn't perfect, but it would stop her from catching any infection the blood on the other blankets could be carrying.  
  
Vegeta appeared in the doorway, his face blank. "Well?"  
  
"They just left her here, sire," Zucco reported, holding a needle up to the overhead light and biting his lower lip as he tapped a vial above it, carefully counting the drops. Finally he injected the serum into Bulma's arm and held it there, reaching behind him for a roll of tape. Grunting, he slipped one finger over the edge and inched it close enough to grab. "She needs more blood, but this should wake her up enough to tell us exactly what condition she's in."  
  
"Will it work?" the prince demanded, crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. He knew Bulma's practical immunity to Saiyan drugs.  
  
"It worked on her son, sire. I'm hoping it will with her as well."  
  
Vegeta cocked an eyebrow. He'd almost forgotten than Gohan wasn't Bulma's true son. /Hmph. They're enough alike. Loud, obnoxious, and hold no respect for those who are more powerful than they./ He would never admit it even to himself, but Vegeta was slowly learning that power wasn't everything. Bulma and Gohan had both showed incredible strength, even when the scouters could barely pick up the scientist's ki. /I will ask the king for her,/ the prince decided suddenly. /She belongs more to me than to him as it stands now./  
  
Bulma grunted as her eyes fluttered open, then yawned and tried to focus her gaze. It was harder than she thought. "Vegeta?" Zucco paused and glanced back at the prince.  
  
"Here, woman," he growled.  
  
"I hate you," she commented absently, yawning again. "Damn, I'm tired. And hungry."  
  
"Now you're starting to sound like a newborn," Zucco said as he pulled the stopper from a bottle.  
  
The sound made Bulma's glazed eyes snap into clarity. She looked at him and smiled, then sniffed at the alien concoction in his hand. "What the hell is that?"  
  
"Something that will clear the infection out of those cuts," he replied, strapping her arm down at the wrist, elbow and shoulder. "My great, great-grandmother invented it when her brother returned from his first off-planet mission." He grinned and knelt by the cot so he could easily see how much was going into the wounds. "It's called Mother's Fire."  
  
"Now what kind of name--" Bulma never got to finish her sentence. The flesh around the injury started to quiver, fire lacing up and down her entire arm as the liquid burned its way down into the core of the cut. Tears ran freely down her face but, remembering Vegeta's enjoyment at seeing her pain before, refused to make a sound. Every cell in and around her arm shouted at her to scream like all hell, but she stubbornly kept her mouth clamped shut.  
  
Zucco was quite impressed at the scientist's reaction. He himself had an experience with the drug, and was quite ashamed to say he nearly fell to his knees and bawled like a baby. Vegeta, likewise, was watching intently, seeing how Bulma kept her chin up proudly even as she couldn't force her eyes to stay open because she was crying so hard. /So strong, especially for a female of such a weak race./ He grunted to himself. /He's right,/ Vegeta realized, looking at Zucco. /I'm getting attached to the damn woman!/  
  
Bulma nearly choked as the incredible burning stopped and a cooling sensation, like a soft cream being spread, replaced the fire. Taking in a few hiccuping breaths, she opened her eyes to see that the wound had started closing already. She looked at Zucco in amazement.  
  
"As you can see, very effective," the doctor commented, tapping the cork back into the vial and dipping one finger into the sealing wax. He turned to the prince and replaced the bottle to its rightful place. He glanced at the screen and his expression became grave. /I wasn't fast enough!/ He favored Vegeta with a hard stare. "Sire, she needs more blood."  
  
"The banks." Even before he said it, Zucco was shaking his head. "Then what do you propose?"  
  
"Someone nearby. There's not enough time for even you to run to the other side of the complex and back and still have her alive. The only reason she's even still awake is because of the serum."  
  
"And THAT I'm ready to kill you for," Bulma growled, testing her arm against the restraints.  
  
Ignoring the human woman, Vegeta tore off his sleeve from the elbow down. "Sire?" Zucco's hand started shaking as he absently stretched the tourniquet. Royal blood was held in high regard. The king would have both of their heads for this. "MALE blood?"  
  
The prince glanced at Bulma and nodded, bending his arms onto the table. "She will handle it." Zucco took a deep breath and steadied his limbs.  
  
"I hope you're right," he whispered.  
  
**============================================**  
  
The most striking thing about Gohan's six-legged, eight-armed, three-headed captor was that the being was pink. Bring, blinding, neon pink. Each of the twelve jelly-like eyes were a different color, some of which the young Saiyan had never seen before. The hybrid carefully studied the alien. Its heads were teardrop shaped, the pointy end stuck into a collarbone that was nearly as wide as Gohan himself. Broad shoulders supported four arms on each side, the muscles there not particularly bulky, or even defined. A strong chest heaved up and down, like taking in air was simply a habit, not a necessity. The waist was narrowed to almost the width of the middle head, two legs jutting down from slim hips, splitting in half about a quarter of the way to the knee, the other set of legs springing from behind, almost like a tail. The creature grinned, revealing three rows of silver, sparkling teeth in each mouth. Gohan suppressed a shudder.  
  
The thing narrowed the four glittery eyes on the right head, and Gohan's restraints were gone. He sucked in a deep breath and almost choked when more green dust was thrown over him. He glared at the alien, clenching a fist weakly. Apparently the straps had nothing to do with his missing power because he hadn't regained it yet. "To keep you alive, boy. There is MUCH less oxygen here than on your world. This will get you used to it in time to begin your training. I don't have time to waste." Before Gohan could comments, a set of clothes were thrown at him. The collision almost knocked him backward. For such underdevoloped arms, the monster was still quite strong. "You will wear those until your training is complete. Get used to them now."  
  
Gohan glanced down at the clothes, then realized his own were shredded. "What… what HAPPENED?"  
  
"I force-grew you, boy. It's impossible to train a Saiyan of 5 standard years and expect him to retain that power." The creature shrugged, a very unsettling sight. "After you complete your training, you will be allowed to return to your younger body if you so wish. The strength you acquire here will be dormant until you come of this age again. And that power you felt while in the transfer stage is exactly one half of your potential. Remember that. We will execute drills to bring you to at least that level."  
  
"When's your birthday?" Gohan muttered absently.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I was gonna get you a dictionary. You don't have a big enough vocabulary," he said with a smile. When the alien did nothing but state at him, he grunted. "What should I call you?"  
  
It looked at him with an expression of pure annoyance. "Tirran."  
  
**============================================**  
  
Silence. Complete and utter silence. Turles could hear his own heartbeat over the breathing of the guard chained to him. He couldn't remember ever committing those crimes, the acts he'd just witnessed on the Player -- a little black box the size of his palm that captured a person's memory and projected them in a 3-D block. /What the hell HAPPENED to me?/ he wondered in disbelief. It was like he'd been possessed: watching had made him sick to his stomach. His eyes shot up to the prince as the soft click indicating the Player had been turned off echoed through the room. Vegeta's face was made out of stone. Turles knew he was screwed coming into this mockery of a trial, but to look at the older man made his heart sink further. If Vegeta had anything to do with the sentence, it would be death by paralysis. Nothing was more dishonorable than a warrior too weak and injured to fight for his life. He'd be paralyzed then left in the southern wilderness with food and water only feet away and still unable to survive. Any assistance from another Saiyan would result in the same fate. He shivered and looked away.  
  
The king rose, his beard moving slightly as his jaw unclenched. Killing off weaker species was expected, their job. But even Saiyans were not known expansively for their torture. Finally he nodded to his son. "You will choose his penalty." The king was slowly but surely turning power over to his heir, readying him for the trials of kinghood.  
  
Vegeta smirked at the warrior and Turles stared back stonily. If he was going to die, then he was going to do it with pride. Two sets of black eyes met and the prince's smirk widened. "He will live," the older man announced. The strong voice commanded silence, but there was no shortage or surprise from the gathered Saiyans. Crossing his arms, the prince glared down at the condemned soldier. "Public castration, then he will serve the slave woman he tried to rape." Finally the court muttered amongst themselves, mostly about the exact meaning of castration.  
  
Turles remained quiet, still glaring at the prince. Vegeta had just sentenced him to ultimate humiliation: living his life as the slave of a slave. He gritted his teeth but didn't trust himself to speak. First the loss of his tail, marking him as a weak warrior, then this. He would rather die than lose his honor, but to kill himself would dirty his name forever. Dying in battle was one thing, but suicide was the coward's way out of a situation. He raised his chin a few centimeters. /I will not be known as a coward. Someday, Vegeta…/  
  
The heir to the throne turned his back to the crowd. Glancing at two guards to his right, he scowled. "Put him back in a regeneration tank. Let him heal fully. I want him to know utmost defeat tomorrow." Vegeta then looked back at Turles, staring long and hard as he was escorted back to the palace hospital. Finally he pressed his forefinger down on the Player's power button, holding it up to the light. The king looked at him curiously as he slowly crushed the box. Memories other than the one needed to convict Turles were in there. He couldn't let Bulma's secret out now. Not when things were going to get so much more interesting.  
  
**============================================**  
  
Breathing had never felt so… easy. Powerful lungs sucked in air out of reflex, not out of need. Blue eyes snapped open as little by little, the tiny changes in her body became more evident. She felt a pleasant warmth burning from the inside, though from the looks of the dank room she should be cold with only a light sheet. Cracks that hadn't been evident in the dim light the night before were now brought into focus, voices down the hall almost formed intelligible words. There was something, a scab almost, that the waistband of her pants was rubbing against. Bulma squirmed a little as she slid off the bed and tried to ignore it. She had to find something to do before she went crazy.  
  
Zucco grinned and flicked on the lights. Bulma hissed as her eyes closed, still too sensitive to deal with the harsh brightness. "They'll adjust better if they're open," the doctor advised, going back to the shelf and methodically pulling down several items. "And if you can't handle this, what are you going to do when you go outside this afternoon?"  
  
"I'm not," she stated plainly, one lid opening a slit. When she wasn't forced to close it immediately, both eyes blinked so she could look at the Saiyan.  
  
"Yes you are," he replied, holding a needle up to the light as he filled it with some sort of clear liquid. Placing the vial down, he motioned for Bulma to come closer. "You wouldn't want to miss what Prince Vegeta has planned for Turles." Before she could reply, he jabbed the needle into her shoulder, holding it there until the contents were emptied.  
  
"I'm sure I do. I don't want to have any more to do with him than I have to." He jabbed the instrument in a little farther and Bulma growled. "Ow, knock it off!"  
  
"I know as well as you do that that didn't hurt," Zucco muttered, pulling a cloth from the sterilization pan and wiping the blood from the needle's tip before laying both back in their proper places. "This will keep your energy down long enough for you to learn to control it. Otherwise you might boil yourself alive."  
  
"Do you have to be so morbid this early in the morning?"  
  
"It's noon."  
  
"Still too early," Bulma muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at the Saiyan. He only pulled a jar from his pocket and handed it to her. "What the hell is THIS?" She sniffed the contents then threw it on the bed like she'd been burned. "And why does it smell like something died?"  
  
"Because something did," Zucco answered with a shrug. "It's salve made of _intrethit_ entrails. For your back."  
  
"You know, next time I ask a question and the answer is something that will possibly make me want to throw up, don't answer it." Then she glanced back at him. "What's wrong with my back?" In answer, he pulled on her pants and placed his finger on the scab. "Yeah, what IS that? And what's a… a intra--thing?"  
  
Zucco chose to answer the first question. "A tail spot." Bulma looked at him strangely and the doctor sighed. "Saiyans have tails. When they lose them, the scar remains."  
  
"Yeah, that's SAIYANS. What does this have to do with ME?" She crossed her arms, and the doctor knew that his answer was probably going to get him killed.  
  
"You were given blood, Bulma. You may be as much as one sixteenth Saiyan." The scientist's face went blank, then her lower jaw dropped. When she remained silent, he continued. "And an _intrethit_ looks like a cross between an Earth deer and wolf. Very nasty things they are, but provide much of our medicine."  
  
Bulma still didn't speak, so Zucco poked her in the stomach. She blinked, her eyes rolling back in her head. The Saiyan managed to catch her under one arm before she hit the ground. Hoisting her up, the doctor balanced her on one side while using his free hand to reread the label on the sedative. /I think I used too much,/ he thought with an inner roll of his eyes. /Of all things she has to react to./ Slipping the jar into his pocket, he threw the unconscious scientist over his shoulder. He had the feeling that they were going to have to put her under a few more times before the eve was out. 

**============================================  
  
**Winded, he leapt back to draw a deep breath even as he pushed off his with his back foot, right fist pulled back to deliver a punishing blow. In mid punch, his other hand swept under his opponent's guard, connecting solidly with the other man's stomach. Tirran didn't double over as expected, but Gohan's knee caught his center head just the same. The pink being used his bottom left hand to swipe at his student's head. Though it hit, the demi-Saiyan barely flinched and rose into the air. The eyes on Tirran's center head widened: he hadn't taught the child to fly yet. Gohan used his teacher's preoccupation and brought his hands together at his waist, eyes narrowed in concentration. Tirran saw what was coming a moment before the Saiyan let loose a ki blast, point blank at his foe's barrel chest. The alien deflected it with ease, then immediately found himself flat on the ground, Gohan's knee pressed into his collarbone, opposite fist embedded to the wrist in the ground between his center and left heads.  
  
Gohan looked stunned as he levered himself off the other man, offering his hand. Tirran accepted, then threw the boy toward the spot he'd just occupied. The Saiyan easily caught his balance in a handstand before dropping to his feet. Ignoring the teaching moment, he turned to face Tirran. "I could have killed you."  
  
"That was the point, boy," he snapped, cracking the knuckles of all four hands. "And I have to say that you're the only one that's ever gotten me on the ground." It was a compliment, but again he ignored it. Gohan opened his mouth, and Tirran stepped closer. "If you're ever going to be a warrior, boy, you have to get rid of that soft side. It will kill you in a real fight." He poked his student in the chest for good measure, then turned away in dismissal.  
  
Gohan was halfway back to the barracks when he heard his teacher's question. "Where did you learn that?"  
  
The Saiyan glanced around, but saw no sign of his pink master. "Learn what?"  
  
"How to control your ki, boy. Where did you learn it?"  
  
"I still don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Tirran was silent. /The more danger he's in, the more his ki grows. It blinds him./ Finally he spoke again. "Never mind, boy. That's something to save for another day." He smirked, though Gohan couldn't see him. It would be very interesting to see one of his students with more power than the entire royal family.  
  
============================================  
  
Zucco smiled fondly as Bulma twitched, the drug's effects starting to wear off. It was fast-working, but lasted only three hours. That same dose to the prince would keep him out at least a day. The human woman cracked on eyelid, then opened the other slowly. Zucco had remembered her new sensitivity to light and had moved her into the shade. Sitting up from her slightly reclined position, the scientist rubbed the spot where the sedative had been inserted.  
  
"Where am I?" Bulma winced as her nails grazed the hole from the needle and glared at the cause of her pain. "And why am I here?"  
  
"Prince Vegeta ordered me to bring you," he said simply, using one hand to push her back down. "Rest. The presentation will be soon."  
  
"What presentation?"  
  
"The prince is giving Turles to you as a slave. He told you that, didn't he?" Though Zucco would have no problem believing it if Vegeta had overlooked telling his head tech.  
  
"Probably," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "Kami, what did I do to deserve this?"  
  
"You don't want him?" Zucco sounded surprised, and Bulma spread two fingers apart so she could see him. Making sure he noticed, she narrowed her visible eye and snorted. "Why not?"  
  
"After what he did to my best friends? And my parents? I never want to see the bastard again." She bent one knee to make herself more comfortable and sighed, bringing her hands down to rest on her stomach. "And I thought whores weren't allowed to own slaves." Her voice was strange, almost as if she were trying to put bitterness in instead of trying to keep it out. The doctor mentally heaved his eyes skyward.  
  
"Have you been used yet?" Zucco demanded sharply. Bulma jerked at the wording of the question, then slowly shook her head. "Then you won't be. Prince Vegeta has put you under his own personal protection for a reason. The gods only know why, but he has and therefore you will be safe."  
  
"He's getting soft," she muttered, hooking one arm behind her head. "I have the feeling that before I came along, he would've came up with some pretty creative ways to kill someone who constantly defies him, insults him, undermines his authority, and killed off a truckload of soldiers." Before Zucco could agree, she continued. "And why does he still have my notebook? It's not like I can build his little gadgets for him from memory. At least not yet."  
  
Deciding to follow the change in subject, Zucco cocked his head thoughtfully. "Which notebook?"  
  
"The one you gave him while we were still on the ship. At least I ASSUME you gave it to him because he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy that would pick up something out of curiosity."  
  
"You're correct." Zucco sat back, his tail swinging leisurely beside the chair. "And I don't know. Perhaps he might not even have it anymore."  
  
"Well either he still does or he memorized my plans for a training chamber." A clanking of chains brought her upright. "What the hell is that?"  
  
"That would be Prince Vegeta and Turles," the doctor replied, slipping out of his chair and winding his tail around his waist. Bulma absently wondered how much practice it took to be able to do that without tangling it in his loose medical jacket.  
  
"Joy," she muttered, rolling her eyes before closing this. "How long do I have to suffer through this?"  
  
Zucco smiled dryly. "As long as the prince drags it out."  
  
"Double joy." Swinging her legs to the same side of the chair, she crossed them at the ankles. "What do I have to do?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I've never been a witness before."  
  
Bulma felt the strangest urge to start banging her head on something. But before she could actually get up and act on it, the two Saiyans came into the light. The blue-haired woman took one look at Turles and felt her stomach churn violently. He was on his knees, wearing only cuffs that bound his ankles and wrists together and a more extravagant version of a loincloth. Not a square inch of him was left unmarked, sometimes to the bone. Vegeta was behind him, smirking.  
  
"What the hell did you DO to him?" Bulma's hands squeezed the sides on the chair in a white-knuckled grip until her arms shook.  
  
"Set him against transformed warriors," the prince answered, a shrug in his eyes. He tossed a chain-link necklace at Bulma.  
  
The moment she touched it, she nearly fell out of her chair. Zucco put a steadying hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Fine." She blinked a few times. "What IS it?"  
  
"A ki dampener. So you can control him."  
  
Bulma nearly dropped it. "A collar?"  
  
"Call it what you want, woman, but put it on him. It's your right." Vegeta's surly voice broke through her thoughts.  
  
"What if I don't WANT him?"  
  
The prince shrugged. "Then he will become a palace slave. We don't have time to debate this, woman. Are you taking him or not?"  
  
Bulma slowly stood and slipped the collar over her slave's head. As if made for him, it fit perfectly, a small silver disk nestled in the hollow of his throat. She could feel his power greatly reduced, almost to where hers stood. She felt so much lighter now that her ki was no longer restricted. The new Saiyan blood had also given her better tolerance to the planet's higher gravity.  
  
Vegeta nodded. "Good. I will see you at the full moon ceremony. Kakorrot's whelp will be presented to the king then." He was gone before Bulma realized he'd moved.  
  
"Hey! What about my notebook!"  
  
============================================  
  
Bulma was jerked rudely out of that state between light dozing and sleep when a hard body slid across her lap, taking her off the other side of the bed with it. Growling through the pain that shot through her back at the unwelcome contact between wall and tail scar, she raised herself to her knees in order to see over the bed. Whatever idiot had enough of a death wish to get her up before she was good and damned ready to was going to get a rather large helping of what she thought about them.  
  
The speech died in her throat as Nea slashed out, leaving four bloody lines down the man's chest then whirling around to catch his neck with her knee. Somehow maintaining perfect balance, the female warrior squeezed her fellow Saiyan's neck between thigh and calf until his eyes rolled back in his head. Leaving the unconscious man slumped on the floor, Nea turned her attention to Bulma.  
  
She carefully wiped the blood from her hands and wrapped her tail around her waist. The Saiyan blinked at Bulma's fierce expression but otherwise didn't move. "I am sorry. I overestimated his strength." Which the scientist took to mean she'd hit him just a little too hard, though she didn't look the least bit apologetic about it.  
  
Bulma's nose crinkled at the all-too-familiar scent of blood. As far as she knew, it wasn't coming from her, and certainly not from Nea. Turning, she glanced at the still form of the Saiyan that had been tossed haphazardly over her. Turles wasn't moving and Bulma felt sick. He still hadn't been to a healing chamber, and the latest addition to his injuries looked like it might have killed him.  
  
Instead of trying to walk around the body, she leapt nimbly over the bed, her lower back protesting. Gritting her teeth in an attempt to battle a groan, she turned her full attention to Nea. "What was that about?"  
  
"I wanted to make sure that I didn't kill you," came the straightforward answer. Even as bluntly put as that, Nea had the grace to blush, if only slightly. Bulma didn't think it was a normal Saiyan reaction. Still keeping her dignity, the Saiyan continued. "He was just standing over you half-naked, and you weren't moving." Bulma was about to comment when Nea spoke again. "And the prince would never forgive me if someone killed his prized technician."  
  
/Well there goes any hopes she checked on me because she CARED,/ Bulma through dryly. "Well now you can sleep knowing that you aren't responsible for my death. And if you were, I think that Vegeta would have turned you into kibble already. Possessive bastard."  
  
The tip of Nea's tail flicked as she contemplated the unfamiliar phrase before looking like she suppressed a shrug. "Not necessarily. That would prove to the king that Prince Vegeta is attached to you and that you are a liability."  
  
"It's not like he has to be afraid of his father. Prince Lawn Dart can take care of himself." Bulma noted the blood on her clothes and mentally sighed. It was so hard to get out, and she was swiftly running out of outfits she would wear. "Besides, his dad likes him. Maybe even proud." She could see that comment nearly floored her Saiyan audience. "You don't see the way the king looks at him? He's proud. Can't show it because otherwise Vegeta would have his head on a platter before anyone could see him move, but it's there. He just wants to keep pushing Vegeta to get stronger, and the only way to do that is piss him off. Which is actually quite easy, I might add."  
  
"The last thing Vegetasei needs is an emotional king," Nea muttered. Had Bulma not acquired her improved Saiyan ears, she might not have heard the comment.  
  
"Saiyans don't seem to think that anger is an emotion," Bulma reflected casually. "Hate either, for that matter."  
  
Her statement got a quirk of the lips from Nea, the nearest thing to a smile she'd seen on the other woman. "They're not. They're actions."  
  
"O, that explains EVERYTHING," Bulma said dryly. Then she glanced at Turles and grimaced. "Would you mind doing me a favor?" Nea's raised eyebrow indicated she was listening. "Help me get him to Zucco."  
  
"Why?" She ran her eyes over the unmoving body. "He's just a slave."  
  
"He's MY slave and he isn't worth very much to me if he's DEAD!" Bulma snapped, crossing her arms. The corner of Nea's mouth twitched at the smaller woman's outburst but hoisted Turles over one shoulder. "Thank you."  
  
"Can you keep up?" Nea demanded, stepping onto the blue squares to take even some of the load off.  
  
Bulma snorted. "After all this? I don't think so."  
  
"You're still not healed?!" Nea looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.  
  
"Of course not. Do you honestly think I'd let them put me in one of those tank things so anyone and anyTHING walking by can get a free peep show?" From the Saiyan's expression, the answer was yes. "Me thinks not."  
  
"Humans and their modesty," Nea muttered, shaking her head and adjusting Turles more comfortably on her shoulder. Bulma winced as his injury scraped across her armor; she'd been in that same position enough times to know the discomfort. Even unconscious he seemed to be in pain. "I'll never understand it."  
  
"And there are plenty of things I'll never understand about Saiyans, but I'm not going there. I don't have enough time." She dug her precious watch from around her ankle and studied the dial. She'd long since disable the emergency button that led straight to the current hideout of refugees and was now installing a little device similar to that that was in the charm Turles had strapped around his neck. "Starting with why Vegeta wants ME to oversee the construction of SOMETHING when he KNOWS I'll do everything in my power to make sure it blows up in his face."  
  
Nea was about to comment, but Bulma punched in the code to Zucco's current office and stepped in, grinning. "Tired of seeing me yet?" The doctor only looked at his new patient and sighed.  
  
============================================  
  
The women lounged easily side-by-side, the calmer of the two hooking her arms behind her head to stare up at the stars. "I thought the moon was supposed to be full like a month ago," she muttered, more to herself than her companion. "And I can't even see the damn thing."  
  
The guard chuckled, tail curling elegantly around her waist. "And you won't, probably until Midwinter." Leaning toward Bulma, Nea stuck her head right next to the human's and pointed to a faint light spot just above them. "That's where the moon is now. It IS full, but our atmosphere is too thick to see it until Midwinter. Then, you can see clear into the next galaxy."  
  
The scientist turned a little to get a better view of the Saiyan. She looked almost at peace as she described the closest planets to her home world. "I didn't think Saiyans enjoyed stargazing," she said at last. "I would think you're more interested in conquering."  
  
Nea's exhalation held a strong note of exasperation. "Don't judge many by a few. Yes, I'm certain that many would like to rid themselves of those worlds just for the sheer sport of it, but there are also many like me who have been there. They are beautiful, unlike here. Even the king has become fascinated with them and has ordered that they not be touched." Nea's and unconsciously stroked Bulma's hair as she spoke.  
  
The blue-haired woman didn't think anything of it until she remembered the guard's sexual preference. She went stiff. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Hmm?" Nea finally seemed to realize that she was treating Bulma much as she did in tender moments with her mate, fingers stilling in the aqua locks. "Forgive me. Orrata and I do this quite often. It seems I've made a habit of it." She smiled dryly.  
  
Bulma sat up, head still tilted back to the sky. "At least I know you're not flirting with me," she teased. "I don't think Vegeta knows how to compete with the opposite sex."  
  
Nea misinterpreted her wry humor for seriousness, upper lip curling slightly. "You shouldn't worry. Saiyans mate for life." Bulma cocked a brow, curious. "Most Saiyans don't go through puberty until nearly their thirtieth year because of the long life span. By then we've also been around long enough to know what we want in a mate and also who fits our life. Once you claim a mate, you can't change your mind. Once you're claimed back, that seals the relationship. Even if one partner dies, the other will go the rest of their life without ever taking another."  
  
Bulma grinned. "So THAT'S why our little princey got in trouble with Daddy," she reflected. Glancing down at her watch (adjusted to Saiyan time, of course), she sighed. "Think Zucco is done with Turles yet?"  
  
"He was hours ago," Nea yawned, getting to her feet in an effortless hop. She tentatively offered Bulma her hand.  
  
The smaller woman grinned broadly and accepted the help up. She held on a moment longer than Nea thought appropriate. "We're friends, aren't we?" It sounded like Bulma herself was amazed at the prospect, though the question sounded more like a statement.  
  
"I don't know," Nea admitted quietly.  
  
"I think we are." Bulma released the Saiyan's hand and nodded before turning toward the palace. Nea remained outside until the human woman was well out of sight.  
  
Bulma sighed as she stepped over the puddle of blood waiting just inside Zucco's office. /Warriors,/ she muttered mentally. /What idiots./ She visibly brightened as Zucco's tired face came into view. He acknowledged her with a kind smile, though seeming a bit harassed by the seemingly important official behind him.  
  
"If he's entering, I need to know where he's from!" the officer barked almost anxiously.  
  
"And I KNOW that!" Zucco growled back, rubbing his temples. "Do you honestly think I can remember the clan of every Saiyan that passes through here?" From the look on the higher-ranking man's face, the answer was yes. Zucco's tail puffed out as he growled. Bulma had never seen him this agitated before. "Stone Mountain, I believe."  
  
"That's to the north, isn't it?"  
  
The look Zucco directed at the man obviously screamed he thought the officer was an imbecile and deserved to be treated like one. Fortunately, he had enough tact not to say that to a senior member of the king's guard. "We have a database for a reason. This would be one of them." So saying, he shoved the bundle of papers on his desk into the other Saiyan's arms. "Go use them before I get angry." The man swallowed and nodded, color drained slightly from his face. When the door swished closed, Zucco flopped down in his chair, head in hands. "Thank the gods."  
  
Bulma pulled a chair from along the wall and pressed the back to the front of Zucco's desk, straddling her seat. "What's up?"  
  
"Prince Vegeta has decided on the entertainment for the full moon festival."  
  
She traced grooves in the wood-like material with an idle finger. "I thought that was supposed to be a good thing."  
  
"It would be, except I'm expected to supply the clan names of every competitor when we have an open database for even the commoners to use."  
  
"Ah. So, what's he planning?" Bulma paused, cocking her head thoughtfully. "And I thought Saiyans didn't use last names."  
  
As usual, Zucco chose the easier question to answer first. "Saiyans are identified by the place they came from, where their entire family is settled. I am from Central City, or the capitol. Those living here or in the service of the royal family or Lord Frieza are referred to only by their name." Bulma nodded understanding, waiting for the second question. From long experience with the doctor, this would take a bit more explanation. "And Prince Vegeta has chosen to reenact the tournament that led to the rising of the Righteous Kingdom." Seeing that Bulma was confused, he smiled. "Are you comfortable?" She squirmed a little to settle herself, then nodded. "Good.  
  
"About 2,000 years ago, the Saiyan race was entirely leaderless and divided like we've never seen before or since. When war was about to break out, the Super Saiyan of legend -- the one with the power and wisdom of a god -- made himself king. He exterminated the weak and the opposition until a core group of loyal followers were formed. Out of that group, he gave kingdoms to his three most trusted friends. One to the south, one to the east, and he to the north. His leadership was so intense, his followers named him Vegeta -- at the time meaning 'empowered by gods.'  
  
"Vegeta's plan wasn't working, however. The rival kingdoms were on the verge of war, much as they had been before the kings' reign. Vegeta called for a tournament to settle the dispute and give Vegetasei only one royal family. The current ruler and the crown heir were to attend. Vegeta and his son won. Legend has it that the runners-up challenge his descendants and won the throne for themselves. But it is only legend. Now, if the crown prince is worthy, his father will name him Vegeta, after the first king, the first Super Saiyan.  
  
"All male members of the royal families look so much alike it's hard to tell one from another. But legend also has it that Vegeta was not a normal Saiyan. He had blond hair and blue eyes, a thing I've never seen in a Saiyan."  
  
"Is that the tournament you were talking about with Big and Crusty?" Bulma wondered, indicating the absent guard. When Zucco nodded, she bit her lower lip. "Who is entering from the north then?"  
  
"Bardock." Bulma's eyes widened and Zucco grinned. "I think that Bardock will take your son with him as the crown prince." 


	5. Part 5: Explanations

Turles cocked a single brow as his mistress laid her palm harshly against her own cheek, then the other. Apparently she was struggling to stay awake, and the Saiyan shuddered to think what she considered important enough to even contemplate missing sleep for, especially when seated in front of anything electronic. He stepped forward, and bleary sapphire eyes, half closed from need of sleep, turned on him accusingly. She punched the "return" key and let her attention wander to the Saiyan.  
  
"Wo-" He bit off the last syllable of that word to prevent himself from addressing his owner in a way that would most likely spite Vegeta into another rampage. instead, he simply inquired, "What are you doing?"  
  
The scientist grinned and tossed her head back to rest of the back of the chair as she slumped down to get more comfortable. "Becoming richer than the king." She opened her eyes to look at her slack-jawed slave. "You don't believe me."  
  
"Not really," he admitted, black eyes narrowing. "How long has it been since you've had sleep?"  
  
Bulma shook her head, faking hurt. "You don't even want to know how I'm going to do it?"  
  
"It's impossible to accomplish," Turles snapped back. "The king has enough gold to cover the entire palace inside and out twice over with rare diamonds the size of your smallest fingernail. And still have enough left over to burn for warmth." He grabbed her by the shoulders and hefted her out of the chair, not an easy feat with his ki all but gone. "You didn't answer me."  
  
"What day is it?" she demanded, even as she glanced blearily at her watch. Counting on one hand, her eyes were locked on the ceiling as Turles directed her toward the bed. "Only forty... two hours? Forty-three?" Her hip collided with the footboard's post. "Hey, what the-"  
  
"BED, master tech," Turles ordered, giving her a gentle shove. Bulma caught herself and straightened, glaring at him. The Saiyan crossed his arms just as stubbornly. "As much as you THINK you may have adapted to longer days and shorter nights, you are still in no condition to go without sleep."  
  
"I thought that YOU were supposed to listen to ME," she argued, though the venom's effect was quickly belied by her yawn. Turles gave her another push, and this time Bulma couldn't fight back. "Bastard," she mumbled even as she slipped under the blankets and made herself more at ease.  
  
The Saiyan rolled his eyes and moved toward the computer. Squinting at the strange characters, he tried to decipher the message scrawled across the screen. He then shook his head and pressed his thumb to the button that turned off the monitor. He studied them once more before the screen went blank, then black. If it was important, Vegeta would already know about it, or find out in the very near future. But in the meantime, it wouldn't do to have the prince know he couldn't read.  
  
============================================  
  
/Stupid animals,/ he thought in something frighteningly close to glee. His logs had proven very useful, which meant that his slaves weren't as incompetent as he'd before thought. /Leaving their entire system open for anyone to plant a virus or... other interesting information./ Of course it didn't matter if the Saiyans had encoded every computer with unfathomable security -- their networks ran though his master controls that stripped away coding as if it weren't even there. It was also used for the purpose he needed now -- to slip in key words that would leave the prince's favorite slave woman scrambling to get off-planet.  
  
Frieza chuckled darkly as he fed bits of information about Namek into the royal house's network, knowing every computer in the palace was connected to that same server. The vertically challenged warlord allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, heavy tail swooshing along the floor behind him. The woman would certainly find it now, and little by little tempt her off Vegetasei and into his trap. Of course, Vegeta would follow, and the Saiyan empire that he'd allowed to reign for so long would simply fall into his lap after the loss of its ruling family. A project like this required patience and finesse, not two of Frieza's finer qualities. However, this time he was willing to make an exception from his rule of sheer power.  
  
He smirked again and sat back from the machine. /Come, little prince. I am waiting./  
  
============================================  
  
The scene looked like something out a movie. The couch-chair setup, complete with pillows on the half-reclined back and a soft finish to the padding, supported a seemingly emotional blue-haired woman while the doctor perched on a stool-like item, clipboard balanced precariously in his lap as he scribbled across the page. Bulma seemed to sense it as well and dramatically threw her arm across her eyes. "Woe is me," she muttered, craning her neck over the back of the chair. Zucco raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes focused on his notes. Happily mated he may be, but the strong blood of a Saiyan male also thrummed in his veins. And Bulma -- the damn woman -- didn't know how provocative she was at times.  
  
"If you don't stay still then this isn't going to work," Zucco grunted, glancing over her head at the stats machine.  
  
"All this technology and I can't even sneeze or it screws up," she growled affectionately, settling back into a more normal position. Zucco rolled his eyes at her usual Saiyan-bashing and returned his attention to the paper. "What are you doing anyway?"  
  
"Making sure your blood is compatible with the prince's," he responded dryly.  
  
"Shouldn't you have done that BEFORE you gave it to me?"  
  
Zucco grinned. "Perhaps." He snapped the folder shut and stood. "But using your son as an example, we assumed that Saiyan blood would be fine to mix with yours. The only problem would be the male's versus female's."  
  
Bulma waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. We went over that already." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the light had faded dramatically from when she'd first entered the room. "Already?"  
  
"Hm?" Zucco glanced up and followed her gaze, brows furrowing as he deduced the reason for her surprise. "Ah, yes. The first tsklisk."  
  
"Should I be afraid?"  
  
He chuckled and leaned back, feeling several discs in his spine realign themselves. "It's only the first fifth of the day. Perfectly normal."  
  
Bulma's eyes narrowed. "First fifth of the day?"  
  
That warning tone in her voice made Zucco want to seriously injure the prince. /Why am *I* the one to explain everything to her?/ He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "The planet spins too fast for our natural waking-sleep pattern so long ago the king simply strung together five "days" to make one."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
Surprised himself at his own succinctness, the doctor shrugged. "Would you rather it be longer?"  
  
"That's quite okay." She raised her arms over her head, bones cracking ominously. Shifting her head from side to side to relieve the stiffness in her neck, she scowled. "So, exactly how long IS a day?"  
  
In keeping with Bulma's character, he had the feeling she wouldn't like his answer and winced before responding. "74 hours."  
  
"WHAT?!" The screech left his ears ringing and several passing guardsmen to banging on the door, making sure the doctor was all right.  
  
Massaging his temples in an attempt to lessen the sudden headache, he dropped his head nearly into his lap. "Would you kindly NOT do that again?"  
  
She didn't look the least bit sorry as she swung her legs over the edge of the chair. "Well, why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I would think that someone with your intelligence would be able to figure it out," he snapped. "I'm not used to having a patient that doesn't know a damn thing about our culture." The heat in her eyes didn't decrease and he smiled despite himself. "I think that the prince's blood was a perfect match for you."  
  
/Well, that wasn't expected./ She blinked once. "What?"  
  
"Very perfect. Although probably not a good idea," he continued, trying to keep the grin from his face. "After all, male blood, especially that from the royal line, makes one more aggressive and driven."  
  
"Am I being insulted?"  
  
"That's up to you." He rose, the rest of his joints clicking into place, including his tail as it stretched behind him.  
  
Bulma shook her head as the doctor moved toward his desk. The man could easily drive her insane, and yet he was the one person she could call a friend. After being abducted, there had been the tentative... relationship?... with Nappa. Odd, since he was the main cause of her being unknown light years from home. However, after meeting Zucco, Bulma found herself thinking about Yamcha less and less...  
  
The Saiyan was looking at her oddly. "Bulma? You're free to go."  
  
She grinned in reply. "It's the new blood. It's getting my brain cells down to a manageable number."  
  
He exhaled heavily. "Get out of here. You're disrupting my work."  
  
"You? Work? Kami forbid it." He rolled his eyes, but she was already on her way out. She paused, halfway through the door when she suddenly leaned back into the room. "Zucco? When can I see Gohan?"  
  
"I suppose after the tournament. Why?"  
  
"Because I don't know how long it's been since I've seen him." She said it in an offhand manner, but Zucco could see worry in her eyes, even as they were hidden by her bangs.  
  
He gripped a shoulder in each hand. "Bulma, this isn't like you." She scowled and tried to shake her arms out of his hands, immediately regretting her small moment of weakness.  
  
"I was just wondering. Tell me Saiyan mothers don't care about their kids."  
  
"Far from it. To take a child away from its mother would result in a fate worse than death." He released one shoulder to tousle her hair, much as he would a favored daughter. "I'll see what I can do. The prince might be against it..."  
  
"Could I give you a message for Vegeta?" Her head had bobbed up as soon as she'd heard the word "prince" and a mischievous glint was dancing in her eye.  
  
"If it involves doing strange and unspeakable things to himself, then no."  
  
Bulma did her best to look like a child whose dreams had just been crushed. "You take all the fun out of things, you know."  
  
"I'm your doctor," he reminded her gently, shoving her away until she was standing in the corridor. "It's my job to make sure you stay in good health." With that, the door swished closed.  
  
============================================  
  
"Are you even listening, boy?" Tirran snarled, all eyes narrowing dangerously. Gohan's innocent layers had all been stripped away, leaving a cold Saiyan warrior in its place. Now the half-breed's back was to him, unmoving as the chilling black eyes gazed unblinkingly into the distance. He made no inclination to acknowledge his trainer and the pink being's scowl deepened. Along with his unquestionable power had come the arrogance only a Saiyan could possess and it only served to infuriate the creature further.  
  
Tirran growled lowly, an obvious warning before his temper snapped. Gohan only blinked, a cruel smirk crawling across his face in response. His blood called for a fight, although it was still incredibly difficult to win against the more experienced warrior. The demi-Saiyan had long ago surpassed him in power, but over 500 years of battle had prepared Tirran for almost any trick an opponent could think of. All of this ran through his mind so quickly he hardly noticed it and instead focused on the alien's unique ki signature.  
  
The two arms of his right side snapped back as he launched himself silently at his student, three sets of lips drawn back in a soundless howl. Gohan's posture straightened as he swiftly gathered energy, hair brushing his forehead as the man-made wind gushed across the open training area. Tirran's top fist was hovering only inches over his head when the hybrid's eyes opened wider and his shield materialized around him. The blow was stopped short as it solidified around Tirran's wrist, immobilizing that arm.  
  
"WHAT?" In all his years, he'd never known one powerful enough to catch, let alone stop, a moving object in a shield. He yanked on the trapped appendage, hissing when it refused to yield. The bottom fist hammered on the invisible bubble, to no avail even as his feet gained purchase on the slippery surface. Beneath him, Gohan was still starting to shimmer in the red aura. Meaty fingers latched onto the swaying locks of hair within reach and tried to yank his student's head back. "BOY!"  
  
The teenager smirked and closed his eyes as his ki roared to life inside the protective shell. Biceps bulged to an obscene level, every muscle under his shirt could be seen as it was stretched to the limit, and his tail swished excitedly around overly developed thighs and calves. Tirran noticed as well. /His TAIL. How?/ The brat was going to be more trouble than he'd accounted for. His three heads bobbed anxiously as he found himself unable to be freed, and his opponent growing more powerful every passing second. The chunks of hair that he'd grabbed had long ago been pulled out, and Gohan hadn't even noticed.  
  
As suddenly as it had started, the near-hurricane halted. The tip of his tail wagged once more before it was wrapped in the customary position around his waist. Gohan turned, nearly grinning as he looked up at his teacher. /His control is astounding,/ Tirran admitted. It took serious effort to collect so much energy in such a short amount of time, and even more so to deal with another outside ki force. He tapped the creature's knuckles with a childlike curiosity.  
  
"You're too predictable," he muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I knew you would go for my head. It was too simple."  
  
"So what are you going to do now, boy? Chat?"  
  
Gohan's lips curved upward in an almost smile. "Talk solves nothing." He stepped back with a slow deliberance until his shoulder blades were pressed against the curve of the shield. "I was thinking more along the lines of a demonstration."  
  
Tirran's brows drew together in confusion as Gohan placed his hands together. His eyes closed, and the gold color of dangerous ki peeked through his fingers. Suddenly, a beam shot upward to penetrate the center of the shield. Tirran's middle head was following its path when a second crashed through the side just under his feet. He nearly toppled as a third broke through at the demi-Saiyan's eye level to his right.  
  
Finally he drew his hands apart, the shining sphere almost too bright to look at. All three heads snapped down to glare incredulously at Gohan as Tirran suddenly realized his intent. White teeth shone in the brilliant light, bared in a superior, bloodthirsty smirk. The ki had been built up and contained long enough: Gohan let his control over both the energy in his palm and the shield vanish. Tirran's fist felt the brunt of the attack, but the combustion sent him several hundred yards away. Unlike Gohan's earlier fighting methods, nothing had been pulled. This would leave a little more than blisters.  
  
The demi-Saiyan cringed as he pulled himself to his feet. He had been a split second too slow in outrunning the blast and ended up with a scorched shoulder and stiff leg. /Better than him, I suppose./ The bloodlust was sated only because of his injuries. Gohan straightened, unwilling to let Tirran see him in this state after he'd used both hands to get a strangling grip on victory. And he wasn't ready to relinquish that yet.  
  
As he came upon his trainer, he felt suddenly sick. Tirran's trapped fist had been blown off completely, as had his arm to the elbow. All sets of legs were in a mangled state and his chest was a crosshatch pattern of blood from the exploding shield. He bit his lower lip, the upbringing of a human overpowering the blood of a Saiyan. Too late, he noticed, as he knelt by the broken being.  
  
The eyes nearest him opened drowsily. "You've won, boy." The voice was choked with surprise as Gohan leaned over him. "You're ready."  
  
"For what?" All this time, and he'd never known the reason for his training.  
  
"For whatever the prince deems you worthy of." Tirran snorted. "I've made you into a fine warrior, boy. Other than Vegeta, there is no one you should bow to." He grinned, an odd look on the usually humorless face. "Take me to my cabin." Gohan's confusion showed in his eyes as he tried to figure out how to hold the unusual body in his arm. "I didn't survive for as long as I have without some tricks, boy." He nodded, hefting his trainer half over one shoulder before turning his steps away from the barracks.  
  
At Tirran's request, he laid him just inside the door. "Do you want to keep this body?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"When you came here, you were 5 years old. Now you are 14. Which body do you want?"  
  
Gohan licked his lips nervously as an image passed through his mind: /Mother. I have to protect Mother./ He raised his chin slightly. "This one."  
  
"That makes my job easier," Tirran muttered. "You have three more hours before you are required to return. Do whatever you like until then. Whenever you are ready, go to the unopened door in the barracks."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Do you want to go back or not?" the being snapped and Gohan's eyebrows raised. "Find Nappa or Bardock. Use them as your only confidantes until you're allowed off-planet on your own. They're the only ones you can trust for more than a damn week."  
  
"I'm ready now." Gohan was surprised at the resolve in his voice, the hard edge of a teenager balancing on the edge between childhood and becoming a man.  
  
"Then do as I have told you, boy." Tirran scowled. "And don't die on your first mission. My heads will be served to the king on a platter if you do."  
  
"Tempting," he shot back, rising to brush the dust from his knees.  
  
Two hours later, after a refreshing nap and quick meal of some unnamed meat, Gohan paused at the door. The muscle in his jaw quivered as he clenched his teeth together so hard he was surprised one of them didn't pop out. His fist closed on the brass knob and turned. It hadn't even gone a quarter of the way around when the barrier flew open, leaving the demi- Saiyan with one foot on the timeless training field (1) and the other on the firm soil of the Vegetasei palace.  
  
1-just in case you haven't guessed, the place they were training is like the room of spirit and time on earth  
  
============================================  
  
"Too bad betting wasn't invented 2,000 years ago," Bulma murmured in her friend's ear. "We would all be wealthy right about now."  
  
Zucco trained his gaze down into the arena. The prince was just landing in the sand, looking as bored as the doctor felt as his opponent -- an unknown from the south -- was carefully carted away. The bright blue of the medics was a sharp contrast to the red-tinted golden brown of the battle floor. Mindless bloodshed didn't capture his attention as it did the warrior Saiyan, but as a servant of the royal house, he was required to attend the event, even participate if necessary.  
  
"So, why haven't you been roped into healing the poor suckers?" Bulma inquired, fighting back a yawn. At home, martial arts tournaments had kept her riveted, if only because the outcome was always between three different people, one being the love of her life and the other two her best friends. To have a battle where the winner was already known was more than boring.  
  
"I'm not needed. The prince is careful about how much damage he inflicts. Throw them all into a tank for a few hours and they'll be fine." He stretched his arms over his head before locking his fingers behind his neck.  
  
"How generous of him," Bulma muttered, glancing down as the next set of fighters entered the arena.  
  
She smiled slightly as the slim man in black appeared. Judging from the hair, it could only be Bardock. However, the warrior halted and turned, scanning the crowd with cunning black eyes. His gaze locked with Bulma's and he smiled although she couldn't quite see him. Even from that distance, she knew without a doubt the identity of the man in front of her.  
  
"Gohan..."  
  
============================================  
  
"What's HIS name?" one Saiyan hissed to his partner, palm clenched over the voice amplifier at his throat. "I've never seen him before. When was his presentation?" The man squinted at the new fighter, cocking his head slightly.  
  
"One from Bardock's line, that's for sure," the other barbarian muttered, squeezing the black box resting on his own Adam's apple. "A third son?"  
  
"Doubtful. He broke the mold by having two already. I don't think he could find a woman willing to give him another."  
  
"The whelp of his youngest son, Kakorrot," a deep voice growled from behind. The two men glanced at each other painfully then slowly turned to face the prince. Vegeta's arms were crossed disdainfully and he regarded each of them with a frozen sneer that sent the tiny hair at the nape of each neck standing on end. "The brat has a HUMAN name." He practically spit out the word "human" and looked sick even mentioning it.  
  
"Then we find him a more... appropriate name, sire?"  
  
"If you value your lives, yes."  
  
The first announcer slid the amp from his throat to resting halfway down his chest. "Shall we name him for his grandfather? Barsri (1)?"  
  
"No," Vegeta said softly, almost as in a dream. "Remind him of his heritage. He is only the son of a third-class weakling that couldn't even stand up to his own brother." The prince scowled. "Saiyan, yes. But barely."  
  
"Kakorrotsu (1)?" the scorekeeper suggested.  
  
Vegeta's head snapped toward him. "Kakorrotsu..." His eyes looked into the distance past the younger Saiyan. "Indeed."  
  
1-basically because this wouldn't fit into the dialogue very well, a mark of honor is to be named after someone and use 'sri' as a suffix. to be named after someone and use 'su' is like mocking the family. 'tis how it works in my strange little world  
  
============================================  
  
Bulma collapsed back into her chair as Gohan nodded once before turning to face the open gate. Zucco rigorously twisted one finger in the ear nearest to the scientist in hopes of reviving his hearing. The language used to abuse his eardrums wasn't familiar, but judging from her expression, that was so much the better. He grimaced as the attention of other spectators was drawn away from the beginning of the fight to the oddly-colored woman stomping about in the noble's box. The doctor finally seized her in the rare moment she stopped to take a breath -- luckily also pausing in her constant motion -- and forced her into the seat beside him. If she had been just a bit stronger, there would be bloodshed worth watching in the stadium's highest tier.  
  
Zucco was taken completely off-guard when a language he understood broke through. "What the hell did they DO to him?!"  
  
The Saiyan resisted the sudden impulse to throw himself into the ring. Gohan and his opponent would be much more merciful than she. Bulma often commented that she was only a "normal" woman, but Zucco was of the opinion that normal women did not remind him of the devil incarnate and have fire shooting out of their eyes. "They trained him." He then grimaced, as much from anticipation of Bulma's explosion as from Gohan's sudden backhand swipe that sent shockwaves through the stadium and washed the first tier in sand.  
  
Just as the scientist opened her mouth, Zucco clapped a hand over it. "Let me explain." She nodded and the doctor slowly eased his palm away. "All Saiyan children are presented to the king for assessment on the next full moon after their first birthday. Gohan is no exception to this rule, and Bardock was designated as his trainer. However, he could not get him ready in time, so he was sent to a creature called Tirran. This being ages a Saiyan's body into its prime in order to gain the most power possible. At the end of training, the warrior is given the option of returning to the younger body, but most retain the form Tirran had chosen for him or her."  
  
"How?"  
  
Slightly surprised she hadn't gone into an uproar -- and even more suspicious because of her calm demeanor -- Zucco shook his head cautiously. "No one is permitted to tell what goes on during their training, and I've never had to face it."  
  
The sudden roar from the crowd drowned out Bulma's response as the pair glanced down at the arena. Gohan bowed once to the fallen warrior and stalked toward the gate without a backward glance.  
  
Both announcer and scorekeeper were speechless as the medics scooped the western crown prince onto a stretcher and wheeled him away. Zucco hid his face in his hands as Bulma's indrawn hiss sounded in his ear. She'd figured out the danger of the next fight.  
  
This match would decide Vegeta's opponent.  
  
And Vegeta would show no mercy.  
  
============================================  
  
"You know what's coming, don't you boy?"  
  
Gohan didn't acknowledge the unfamiliar voice, then glanced out of the corner of one eye. Sitting on the stone bench with twined fingers resting across his knees, he was a bit surprised to find gravity-defying hair not too far above his head. If he stood, he would have towered over the intruder. About to dismiss the stranger, he caught a glimpse of the face and Tirran's last words rang ominously 'Other than the prince, there's no one you should bow to.' And from what he remembered from the hells of his capture, this was indeed Vegeta. And as pissed off as usual.  
  
He nodded coolly. "Prince."  
  
Vegeta's brow twitched: he'd almost enjoyed the time away from the brat simply because he didn't know if he could take such insubordination from them both. The only upside to this situation was that he wasn't a whiny 5- year-old anymore. Now he could see a cold indifference and that same sparkle of sharp intelligence that Bulma possessed burning in his gaze. The Saiyan suddenly got the distinct feeling that whatever hell he had considered his life to be before, it was about to become much, MUCH worse.  
  
"Answer me, brat."  
  
Gohan's eyes narrowed. He might have rivaled Vegeta in power, but to challenge him -- at least openly -- at this point would forfeit his life. Nodding once, he tried to keep the patronizing tone out of his voice. "Of course. It's a tournament. The winner of one round fights in the next. It's not complicated."  
  
The prince scowled, arms suddenly crossed over his chest. "It is when two... warriors" -- the word was barely choked out, almost painful to admit that Bardock's line was far too successful for his taste -- "of the same line are about to fight each other."  
  
Gohan couldn't help but smile. "You mean we've screwed with history enough already?"  
  
"Not quite." Vegeta couldn't help but again notice the uncanny resemblance between the demi-Saiyan and the woman. He knew they weren't biologically related: it seemed he alone could smell it on them. Perhaps it was a warped sense of humor joined with disdain for authority that created a sarcasm unique unto them. And yet, after the enjoyment he had taken in discussing just this issue with his father, he felt the beginnings of a smirk at his own lips. "It's been decided that you will both fight me at the same time."  
  
============================================  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Vegeta shook his head as nearly the entire planet shouted the same word in unison. He knew the announcement wasn't going to be taken well, but the resulting commotion made his ears ring. Eyes swinging left and right, hoping to find something to turn his attention on until he could hear again, the finally landed on the fighters. His two opponents were standing a small distance off, and for a moment he had trouble telling the difference between them. He knew that Saiyan sons resembled their fathers, and Kakorrot seemed to have passed that trait onto his son. Vegeta himself was often told had he allowed facial hair to grow, he could have been mistaken for the king.  
  
Simply because the small riot had yet to settle down, he continued to study them. Bardock had been quite formidable two decades ago, and hadn't even reached his prime. Now the warrior before him had been planet-hopping for 30 years since their last spar, and Vegeta had no idea what to expect. One couldn't travel that long and pick up no new techniques. He also couldn't remember the older man's strength: Bardock may have been stationed as third class, but the missions his team were sent on required the power of an elite or better. With his wealth of battle experience and the power to make the fight last, Vegeta was sure the big man would pose a mild challenge.  
  
The boy on the other hand, didn't have any of his grandfather's finesse or off-worldly knowledge. He hardly had any power at all considering the strength he showed before his training, and not many that stayed under Tirran's hand for so long came out as weak. Gohan smirked at him, though he quickly returned his eyes to the stands. Vegeta followed his gaze and found that Zucco had been left to fend for himself inside a box that contained a raving Bulma. While none of the three combatants could actually hear her -- shocking, despite the noise -- it was evident just what she had such a problem with. Gohan narrowed his eyes as if trying to see better and grinned. Apparently being part human didn't interfere with his Saiyan senses, as he could easily read what she was saying.  
  
Bardock stepped forward, one step farther from his grandson. "My prince? May I have a word with you?" Vegeta's glare nearly sent him back. "It's important, I assure you."  
  
The younger Saiyan blinked slowly. "Speak."  
  
"My prince, I have to say that I must allow the boy to fight alone."  
  
Vegeta went entirely rigid: never had ANY warrior given up the honor or a spar, and most elites would have given their tails for a fight such as this one. "What are you doing?" he hissed in return, covering the distance between them in three quick strides.  
  
"Having us fight together is a disadvantage to us," he replied calmly, lowering his gaze so it rested on the vertical line of tension between the prince's eyebrows. He smirked slightly, letting his eyes travel the length of the stands before returning them to their previous position. "It would make more sense to finish the tournament the way it started. And the way legend has it written."  
  
Gohan looked over curiously. "This entire thing is only legend?"  
  
Bardock nodded as Vegeta's scowl deepened. "I'm not about to go back on my word," the prince growled, glaring at them each in turn. "And I refuse to let you make a fool of me by deliberately losing."  
  
"How would that make a fool of you?"  
  
The commander couldn't help but admire the boy. When that burning gaze fell on him, he simply met the prince's eyes, no fear, no cowering. Simple acknowledgement. "The immediate conclusion of a Saiyan is that the winner of such a fight was afraid. I am afraid of no one." His eyes narrowed. "Understand?"  
  
Gohan held Vegeta's glare as an extremely nervous announcer worked his way to Bardock's side. "My prince?" His grunt produced another stuttered sentence. "The fight is about to begin."  
  
============================================  
  
Zucco winced as he finally exerted the majority of his much-contained strength to hold his ranting charge firmly in her seat. Any normal person would have been on the ground from exhaustion long before this point. Bulma, on the other hand, was only getting warmed up. However, his attention -- much like the eyes of every other person in the stadium -- was riveted on the three figures in the arena's center. Teeth bit into his lower lip as Bardock lowered himself to one knee before his prince, bowed his head and strode off the battlefield. The Saiyan was leaving his grandson to spar the prince. This being the last fight, Vegeta was even less likely to hold back as much as he had before. The doctor shivered and glanced at Bulma from the corner of his eye. In a split-second decision he arched one hand over her shoulder and into a precice place on her neck with just enough controlled force for the scientist to halt mid-sentence, blue eyes roll back in her head, and slump into waiting arms. If she threw this much of a fit before being certain of Gohan's fate, he didn't want her awake to see him pummelled into the ground.  
  
As he took his own seat he wondered if he shouldn't do the same to himself.  
  
============================================  
  
Vegeta snarled as his combination failed him, the one open spot he'd forgotten to cover instantly detected and a sole punch thrown into his ribcage. The resulting crack made him wince, but the pain was not immediate, held at bay by adrenaline brought on by fury. He hesitated a split second, long enough to glance over the boy once more before renewing his attack. It wasn't often he underestimated an opponent, and that Gohan was so formidable a rival at such a young age brought his heated blood boiling to the surface.  
  
The demi-Saiyan leapt back as the prince came crashing into the place where he'd stood less than a second ago. He wasn't given time to recuperate as Vegeta's arm whipped into one knee, shattering the cap and making the boy double over just as his weight shifted and a suddenly free leg swept into Gohan's face. To his credit, the younger fighter didn't show any emotion, any pain, as he toppled back. Vegeta chose to claim his victory in the way of the Old Saiyans. He grabbed the tip of Gohan's tail and ripped, jerking the appendage from the boy's body and holding it aloft.  
  
============================================  
  
/Strangle the bastard./  
  
That sole thought breached her consciousness, and with it an ache that throbbed from deep within one particular muscle. Glassy blue eyes fluttered open and immediately into a glare. A cool fabric passed over her forehead again and this time was left to rest, the corners dragged along heated cheeks. This was NOT the Saiyan way to awaken someone, she thought idly, trying to bring her vision into focus. It was quite a bit harder than she'd thought.  
  
/Guess he's not such a pushover after all./ Mentally groaning, she tried pushing herself to her elbows, but a firm hand on either shoulder prevented any movement. "Bastard," she hissed at the blurry Saiyan, eyes narrowed as much in anger as from trying to make out the offending male. She'd had enough of waking up in strange places with more modifications than she knew what to do with, and waking up with another stranger standing guard over her was enough to make her explode... if she could manage to sit.  
  
"Watch your language. There are children about."  
  
A snarl was about to break when she blinked suddenly. While certainly deeper and with a colder edge to it, the voice was unmistakably that of Chi Chi's son. "Gohan?"  
  
"Of course. Who else would bring you coffee?" The familiar scent of home wafted under her nose. Bulma blinked again, the circulation finally returning to her brain. Zucco knew damn well what he was doing, and the scientist rubbed the bruise in irritation. Gohan grinned, and in that moment he looked like himself again. Simple, carefree, just a kid who wanted nothing more than to be out on a sunny day despite his newly acquired body of 14. Zucco had promised to explain the physics of that one, although quite truthfully she wasn't sure she wanted to know. The demi- Saiyan's expression faltered when she didn't answer. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." Putting both hands over her head, she winced at the sudden lancing pain. "Or I will be as soon as I beat a certain medical advisor over the head for leaving me unconscious in a chair." This time her narrowed eyes were suspicious. "What about you?"  
  
"Well... it was kind of a draw..."  
  
The roar of fury-inflamed agony ripped through the crowd, accompanied by a burst of power that threw Vegeta into the stands. Gohan blindly took to the air, a primal rage that sent every hair on the prince's body to standing on end washing over the half-breed. Slitted eyes turned on his opponent, bared teeth issuing an unmistakable challenge: kill or be killed. The bloodlust that sang through his veins couldn't be stopped as he dove, visible only as a blur. Vegeta barely had time to step out of the way and Gohan's swoop emptied the immediate area of sand. The tsunami crashed into the arena walls, snapping most of the barriers in half.  
  
And the Saiyans loved it. This was what they had come to see.  
  
Vegeta's fist tightened around the boy's tail in furious desperation. Never had a Saiyan's power INCREASED upon the loss of so dear an appendage. Perhaps his human side was working to his advantage. The prince let loose his control and felt his own ki flare in response. "Then come to me, boy!"  
  
So Gohan did. In a flash of light he had the prince's neck in his hands, then he shattered both shins until only his left hand was supporting his foe. Near-paralyzing shots to his back continued until Vegeta felt faint, trying to cough up blood but Gohan's fist allowed no room. For the first time, the Saiyan was staring death in the face and felt a tremor of fear.  
  
Sheer luck saved his life. When the demi-Saiyan paused for breath, the adrenaline-induced frenzy collapsed, the power expenditure too much, and Gohan crashed to his knees. Fingers fell away from Vegeta's neck long enough for the prince to draw in a mouthful of air before his systems shut down. The older warrior looked almost at peace curled up on the bloody stadium floorboards, sneer gone and eyes closed in rest. Even in unconsciousness he was content. He'd had the spar of his life.  
  
"You IDIOT! You could have been KILLED! Do you know what they DO to people stronger than the prince?!" Bulma's heart was in her throat, fists pounding on the boy's shoulders. "Good KAMI!"  
  
Gohan in no way attempted to stop her abuse. In fact, he looked rather sheepish. "Well, if I'm the strongest one on the planet then I don't have to worry, right?"  
  
"Not if the whole fucking damn planet is against you! Don't you THINK?"  
  
"Not really. That's what I have you for."  
  
Bulma screamed in frustration and gave him one last hard thump across the back of the head. Then she paused. "If you both took that much damage, how long have I been out for?"  
  
He kissed her forehead with an ease that made her draw back. "Only a few hours. Vegeta let me use his personal healing chambers. You'd like it in there. There's buttons."  
  
'And only a few hours ago he was a cold-blooded killer bent on mass destruction. Vegeta, I'll kill you for what you've done to him. And if Chi Chi ever finds out...' She shuddered, running an unconscious hand through his hair. "Damn you."  
  
"You should get ready. You don't want to miss my presentation."  
  
"Your WHAT?"  
  
"To the king. So he knows who I am." Gohan's warrior smirk was already in place. "As if he doesn't already." He tapped in the code and glanced over his shoulder. "I'll be waiting Mother."  
  
Bulma could only stare at the closing door. /Mother? He thinks I'M his mother?/ Once again the movie played, the movie that had been set on pause for all this time, the movie of mother and son in their last embrace, the movie of Chi Chi's horrendous death, the movie where, in an act of cowardice, she'd hidden less than 10 feet from the carnage and allowed it to happen. The movie of her past. That Gohan would look up to her, honor her with that name... She could only close her eyes and let the tears come.  
  
============================================  
  
A stiff, formal nod was all the motion he allowed himself as he paused before the king, Bardock as his sponsor a mere half step behind. After the fight of the century, little had been needed to draw the monarch's attention to him. In fact, he could sniff out a small measure of fear in the old man. But what brought his temper to the surface once more was his grandfather's explanation of his new identity. /Kakorrotsu, indeed,/ he fumed, clenched fists barely hidden in his baggier training clothes. /After that display they still have the balls to name me after my bastard father who couldn't even defend himself./  
  
He barely suppressed a snarl as the king's gaze trailed over his almost- casual attire with a "He will do." Gohan felt his nails bite through skin and Bardock sighed heavily, a warrior's sigh that was usually accompanied by some speech about the importance of patience.  
  
"Sire, as the boy's sponsor, may I also request a ranking trial."  
  
Vegeta, seated at his father's side, glanced at the duo out of the corner of his eye. Bardock obviously thought his sovereign couldn't refuse, but the prince could see he was about ready to do just that. Whatever his answer, Vegeta couldn't change it. The Saiyan narrowed his eyes, almost hissing at the older man to get his attention.  
  
Rumors about Bardock's intelligence told that he was quicker than most and he jerked his head up to meet the king's eyes. "And a Guardsmanship challenge at the honor of our prince."  
  
The younger warrior mentally raised an eyebrow. While that was exactly what he'd expected, it was enough of a save to push his opinion into a position to counter his father's. If he deemed the boy worthy of becoming part of his honor guard he would have to be tested to find his true strength. Through a new rank.  
  
The king, as if knowing something had gone on under his nose, directed his glare at his son. "The boy is yours to do with as you see fit. Although you might find it difficult to kill him." Vegeta scowled. A warning in disguise. His new slave but the royal snoops would be watching. He nodded once to Gohan and Bardock, dismissing them and at the same time waving the next Saiyan down the aisle.  
  
Once as far from the king as protocol would allow, Gohan whirled on his grandfather. "What the hell just happened?"  
  
Bardock grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "I do belive we just weaseled you out of a life doing grunt work, my friend. Vegeta gives his personal guard the best assignments. Not to mention the best rewards." The boy could read a small hint of envy in the other man's eyes. "And I daresay he likes you."  
  
Gohan acknowledged this by barely missing Bardock's boot as he spit to the side. "Isn't the point of the guard to KEEP him from harm?"  
  
"Look at it this way: you might get chosen as his sparring partner. Then you can beat the hell out of each other and get paid for doing it." Bardock cocked his head to the side. "And the more time you're at the palace the more time you can spend with Bulma."  
  
Now the brat looked interested. 


End file.
